Contrasong

Gazing quite vacantly into space one day sitting up in my bed

surrounded by a few Sunday papers and their colour supplements

all of them superficially interesting happily unaware that somewhere

somebody was aware that somewhere somebody was awake

and well undisturbed living on

Glancing quite speedily through assortments of horrible illustrations

of atrocities and apologies of editors but they felt it was necessary

for people to see the pcitures on no account were they attempting

to boost their paper's circulation I felt a wave

closed my eyes which was worse

Nevertheless I was I suppose quite at ease at home

with my food brought up at intervals to my bed with all the sympathy I could want

and with all the time in the world to write thank-you letters to

all the people kind enough to send Christmas presents

when they knew I was really very insignificant