And the Prose of Stevenson

Imagist, arabesque -  old Bill Bones'
Inn on a cliff, a china-blue sky,
White linen snapping in a cold spring wind -
His memory or mine?

Chaos has invaded the Admiral Benbow,
Pirates are wrestling in the room downstairs
And my father is dead, or useless,
My mother is crying.   I remember
As if it were yesterday, and laugh out loud.

Blind Pew and Borges dance like Astaire
In the brain of the old divine,
Tap-tap-tapping forking paths
On a clifftop of the mind.