On the 13th of April
some sort of centenary
chuffed sun agog
at children scheming Beckett
in squares and beatnik woods
a starlet in black stockings
and god nude below a tutu
We’re all jogging to happenings
rampant tropes of actors
on a trail full up with vitamins
and mislaid candelabras
where up on his tardy throne
nobody sits
‘bleating to be bloodied’
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