have no accidents, They loop<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> their incredible horse-shoe loops, dead0stop on air-brakes, road-safe on squeaks: racketeering their SOS noise in a jai-alai bat-jam of collapsed umbrellas, a Chancery Lane of avoided collisions, all in a cave without lights; then hung happy, a snore of starp-hangers undergrounding without an Evening Standard between them to the common Waterloo that awaits bats, like all beasts, then off now, zoom! Man, you can’t even hear them; bats, are they? 1967 |
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