Wordsworth's Grave

Powerful feelings overflow,
spontaneous overflow.
Ever been to Wordsworth's grave
Where flowers overgrow?
Ever breathed Hellvellyn's
cold air, chilling lungs
in the morning frost,
making ice lollipops
of noses?
I coughed blood on striding edge
Where William fucked daffodills
and when descended,
sweaty and worn out
I sat on his grave and lit
a cigarette.
Emotion?
Where the hell was tranquility
through blistered socks?