LONDON EXCURSION
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BUS Great walls of green,City that is afar. We gallop alongAlert and penetrating,Roads open about us,Housetops keep at a distance. Soft-curling tendrils,Swim backwards from our image:We are a red bulk,Projecting the angular city, in shadows, at our feet. Black coarse-squared shapes,Hump and growl and assemble.It is the city that takes us to itself,Vast thunder riding down strange skies. An arch under which we slideDivides our lives for us:After we have passed itWe know we have left something behindWe shall not see again. Passivity,Gravity,Are changed into hesitating, clanking pistons and wheels.The trams come whooping up one by one,Yellow pulse-beats spreading through darkness.
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