More Faces Than The Church Clock

 These two pictures, and the poem have something in common. But I won't spoil it by telling you.

 

Run With the Chicken Man

Find the damaged orphan,

Show him flowers, circuses, jugglers,

Caravans of retreat and healing,

Different spaces of understanding.

Nurse, cajole, encourage, lead,

Lend a hand, lend your heart,

But keep a tight hold,

When the pet doesn't sit.

Won't do tricks, play dead,

Or husband material, really,

Then pull to bits, slate and stab,

All thousand aphorisms, false lies.

The orphan retains sense of self?

Goodness, why not then judge?

Pull to your kitchen table dissection,

Abandon, while you run with racier types.

To expensive islands, flashier cars,

Halls of mirrors, see your sayings,

Made real, with hollow ambition,

Then shut the door, icy orphan doorstep.

While you run with the chicken farmer,

In pubs you slated, hated,

Hypocritical healer, no nightingale,

Just the judgmental dog groomer.

This one has little in common with any of it, but is a healing place to wander....