I read some Charles Tomlinson, prompted by a book called
The Sinking Island, & here is one good poem he did write:

   "In Defense of Metaphysics

Place is the focus. What is the language
Of stones? I do not mean
As emblems of patience, philosophers' hopes
Or as the astrological tangents
One may assemble, draw out subjectively
From a lapidary inertia. Only we
Are inert. Stones act, like pictures, by remaining
Always the same, unmoving, waiting on presence
Unpredictable in absence, inhuman
In a human dependence, a physical
Point of contact, for a moment not physical
And on a track of force, the milestone
Between two infinities. Stones are like deaths.
They uncover limits."

[Perhaps he'd just been reading Riding.]

   "What Hunger Means"

Words to describe it are nixed;
Empty gestures must suffice.
What will they take away next?

All things wrong will soon be fixed
They say, if we sacrifice.
Words to describe it are nixed.

By noise of dismays we're vexed
When murmurs of prayer suffice.
What will they take away next?

Our strength lies in throngs unmixed.
They won't be asking you twice.
Words to describe it are nixed.

To think I was once perplexed,
And dabbled in foolish vice!
What will they take away next?

After all else is deep-sixed,
Fun fun fun the maze of mice!
What will they take away next?
* to ** it are *.

07 20 03

You know, after the Velvet Revolution, everyone in
Czechoslovakia had taken Russian in school but
noone wanted to use it anymore... Maybe i should be
writing in Europanto!