running from the orix sneese

now the huge body
of the jack kirby robot
is skin-mapped with the grounds
of misselthwaite manor
and the secret garden centered
over the chest and archibald craven
is looking out from the robot's eyes
like windows and is played by
david bowie no oscar wilde no
simon wells and mrs. craven
is played by joan no shirley anne field
and mary lennox by rachel clay
the cold pale radioactive victoria
and old ben weatherstaff is played
by bernard the scientist no alexander knox
no oliver reed and all the other children
can be anyone they please
especially the talking robin or the cackling crow
no the regal raven and you can imagine
the robot's ragged chest is grown out
like green spaghetti (tinkling with keys)
floralised and toasted by monty don
and monty python and happy pythons
in general and that the robot still clanks
and that the gothic atmosphere
of the world order is an old metaphor
for the vicissitudes of being
adrift in history and thrust up here
and there as a jonquil or a tulip
a cabbage palm or a hand of destiny
what is this huge mistake?
what is this weird england
no america no drawing no movie
no book no poem
gone through the whole
in a vibrant and obscure
colour? the merry leamhanach
them airy leams and hey king
ands (...)