These are the makers' words adorn w...

These are the makers' words adorn with raised worked on
the bars of the cast-iron storm grating--three paces
across the footpath from my brow gate-
into whose unfathomable silences the gutter flows.
Windblown, fallen leaves are tossed in succession
this minor Styx like for a like reason many drunken bateaux;
paper feminines crisp-packets, a sudden ...