A song for the innocent loner, <br />the plough-hand and fish-boner: <br />his slow pipe <br />lowers as he listens <br />to his own voice, broken through dreaming. <br /> <br />The call of some other flesh awakes <br />in his dry mouth, where a smile breaks - <br />the hunchback hills <br />climbing to the sea-line, <br />where his silhouette walks sometimes, <br /> <br />leaning, wandering, aching, self-singing <br />in his head, eremitically ringing, <br />pondering the shapes <br />of coin-bright stars, <br />and rain like shillings spilling into the street. <br /> <br />The dance of a derelict breeze <br />passes his face with infinite ease: <br />the splash of a limb <br />on the solitary rocks. <br />He looks about; baskets on cobblestones.<br /><br />Stug Jordan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-song-for-the-innocent-loner/
