Ways of Seeing

I saw a fight break out at Wembley The whack and split of fist and kick was carcasses on a hook I kissed him with the river churning Out a steady pattern of Hockney water on our tongues I pushed my head into his waiting shoulder Show me how to move, brother, like a single proof My friend, I heard the birds in chorus Singing out in blue-black hues That was the river, too That was the river, too That sadness was the river, too With hand on shoulder, stomach, neck We twisted out of freedom, blessed in a silent dream Greedy for that steady touch As if this now, this tender grasping newness Washes around the bend I visit you in football stadiums The seats erupt in plastic slap, my head is on your lap My friend, I heard the birds in chorus Singing out in blue-black hues That was the river, too That was the river, too That sadness was the river, too That was the river, too That sadness was the river, too