Microscope too a mechanised Padded cell.

I question weather systems of poets 

and what’s the difference between a line a Barr and me 

a women met before under the pantile street

scene after scenic scene.
if we were locked in a crowded room 
is this not just a padded cell under a microscope 

And would you be able to tell me 

from which tree that apple fell.
cast aside a blank script as we turn a wheel 

to the tide in a deadlined margin.

As the dancing sun patterns across 

seven other timesheeted days that were lost 

and alas a lonely moon drawn in the snow 

Until the melt.
the dog howls and hides beneath 

as we break even to lost despair 

aspirations left in this field of fresh air

that you tugged and we let go off.