This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 4 Number 4, 1975.
First MoveAnd just when he was all in it,
From head to foot the welling heartbeat,
This thing, this town, ceased to articulate for him.
Some ogre behind the font?
Some field god tired of making wheat?
Shocked when a child sister
Was walked in her deadbox to the old church
He saw the light turn sinister:
Some one had moved the morning
...
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