Yes, what happened to the nature poets&;#063;

1: WORDSWORTH IN ANOTHER WORLD

Its tower cylinders are
giant packets of Rowntrees fruit pastilles
pastel-coded floors
You inhale burning yeast, head for that high-rise,
the conspiring beast, winking, a strobe in its eye,
make a beeline for the main pearly door,

round the lift, past milling yobs,

ignore the stares, up the stairs, up the stairs times
twenty-four,

and in that flat, slumped on the sofa
is William Wordsworth, young-looking, off his rocker.
His eyes are kaleidoscoping, the limited repartee
starts with his saying, "The problem with me, back there,
no one had a clue. No one really got what I was trying
to do
not nature
but human nature
not nature
but human nature
you get me?
I wrote about Lucy 'cause I wanted my sister!
and those saps, obsessed with the flowers" -

he indicates a lump of brown resin -

"this is the only plant I care for now."

You feel a bit low. As he licks his lips, looks ready to sneeze,
(a cold? Please!) you comment on how striking images of
waterfowl, osprey, stock doves, night jars,
seagulls, magpies, stone chats and buzzards are -

he indicates two hotties on the dancefloor
giving bigfish-littlefish-cardboard-box:

"These are the only birds I care for now,
you great bustard..."

With that he starts to sledge, twisted, weasel-faced,
you put each other on your mobile phones
you make a ragged pledge to meet up again
you hug, say bye
and your heart restarts
and you leave the city of Heaven.

2: THE WASTED LAND

If you've got tonic water
I won't have it on the rocks
I mean - with tonic water
on the rocks -
gin -
a double on the rocks -
You've only got diet tonic water?
Not that crap!
The after-taste is minging -
okay, with diet tonic water - on the rocks -
where's the toilets in this dive?
Glug glug glug glug glug glug glug
That's soda water!

3: DAFFODIL

which reminds me
i woke up last week with a tongue like seagrass carpet
the sun had markings and numbers around it:
a thermostat, turning clockwise

so i pulled on some shorts
went out to give the lawn a haircut
a number one

and i swerved to miss it
this daffodil
bent double at an acute angle, a hospital-bed reading lamp,
its colour sucked away
the way colour is sucked
from a slush drink

o you brave urban daffodil
you could have chosen the lake district
but you chose my garden, withington, manchester
i think i like you

which reminded me
of my last brush with nature
en route to a betwys-y-coed pub, i was the passenger,
she braked to a halt, jolted into reverse,

my quizzical glare

she explained, "i think i saw a hawk back there."

i pretended my outrage was about her road safety
and it gets me down to think of it now
but my outrage was more a reflection
that i wanted a pint
and i didn't care