Sacred City (Ode to Milton Keynes)

[billy]

The town is square and grey, an altar cloth
in open fields. A boulevard divides
the rising and the setting sun. The hill
which rooted Joseph's staff may not be here,
but Nature's sweets and idols are. A witch
I kissed one Summer's night is bearing bread
and stones. I watch her through a pub window.
Her rites are held in tree preserves, where love
and leaves are one with light, each soul a part
of Earth's design. I kissed her there, beneath
a stooping tree. She laughed and lost my name.
I walked to work the next morning with grief.
A fleeting lust, a sudden warmth, a tree
behind us, old and stooped, yet now this grey.

one of those rare time when i have nothing constructive to say.
this may be one of your best poems jack. (i think so anyway)
i do have one thought why do we have A boulevard in england?

other than that, a delightful piece. i have a feel the internal line breaks are experimental, if so i think you did a good job with them.
thanks for the read.