From post codes
To ships cove
To an end
There's a cloud chaser overhead
A match-stick maker
Crash coursed and up-streaming
With fear and greed
At a quarter to four
Were trap doors
Cubby holing
Thanks for nothing
I'll be back for more
The markings of webbed feet
And tracks of torn tradition
The bricklayers
Glass ceilings
And conversation
Our blocks
Our steps
Our trademarker
Mother's pearl and father time
A brother's penance and mined matter