it is, plastique and clean,
-Against the filth of London's public grasp,
Contents slop out, unnerving
As they are revealed.
A choleric confusion of genius-
Words, stacked in mottled tangles
Bound in a mundane cloth,
As was he.
The old shuffler shambled,
Mumbling and twitching with wig askew
To catch mocking gawpers, as they fell
From the gutters of elevated foolery
After his mind. Restored, they traipse
At his side like bareheaded infants
All but one
In a repetition of distress
He staggers, upturned, looking...