Near the Castle Corfu
There is a wood
Which caters for
The Spanish abroad

I have rewired their public cemeteries

A boy named Genesis
Made a whipping wheel
On his wedding day
He was at the height of his primitive powers

I listened to his selected tales
Discounted the lies
But accepted his twilight dedications

We agreed an interlude
While his marriage took place
Such are the legends of progress

Chloe of the Fairs
Brought pink flowers
And we ate their harsh petals
In our rooms above the gate
Each alone with our own thoughts

I was disturbed
By the students of glass
And their theories of reflection
They showed me the marble lakes
But I was not invited to swim with them

In the Church of Needs
I translated the decorations
That hung from the walls
And was rewarded with exile
By the Blue Dolores