Bella is a Liverbird who sits atop a tower and waits upon the clock face to hit the midnight hour for that’s the time the pubs let out and boys come out to play then she’ll swoop down for a handsome one and with him fly away, and there up on her skybound perch she’ll set him in her nest and do to him the nicest things that Liverbirds do best.
I wish I lived in Mike Love’s beard in nineteen sixty nine it looks so lush and warm in there I think I’d be just fine he’d show me all his dance moves right there under his chin with room for a little Honda if I fancied taking a spin
some marines in submarines went sailing out to be respectable in spectacles to see what they could see reversing in submersibles they beached upon the shore and in wet socks dashed on the rocks their dreams for ever more
do not touch the pelicans in St. James’ Park they don’t take all too well to such lakeside larks rather stroke the squirrels or chase a wayward duck but please don’t touch the pelicans as you’re sure to come unstuck.
I wrote this poem backwards to see where it would start if its seed was in my head or it grew in my heart and then I turned it inside out the surest rhymes to find decided it could do without a certain measured time but after all I set a fire and in it through my verse thinking that cast to the flames it couldn’t get much worse therefore I started up again and forwards did compose thus these simple lines appeared to bring me to a close.