Windows
Three faces face outwards, surprised by their master
who renders them timeless as they pursue business
(no business of ours). Who's that man watching?
inquires a small boy, attached to a mongrel
as spindly as he. An unattached puppy
stands alone in the centre, surrounded by people
standing there gawping at nowt in particular,
not speaking just gawping, shopping bags round the elbow,
while foregrounded figures, leaning and moving
resolutely forward across the rear stasis,
those closer ignoring the painter who watches
the people unseeing, save the small boy trailing
and the lone looking lady quite anxiously peering
among capped and behatted crowds going shopping
before clustered grey houses, church spires and chimneys,
(existant no longer) and a window with no one
outwardly looking, here we and the painter
both watch together this smoky old town.
Election Time 1930
A crowd of lone figurines
Stand watching and thinking,
Idly walking, sitting, leaving
As if through upstage wings
You can almost hear the shuffle
The heave of the engines,
Their smut and hiss and smell
Wheels skiddding and straining
Behind the cyclorama
Below the menacing clock
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