From W H Mallock’s novel A Human Document again, the one from which Tom Phillips created his A Humument. Undertaken as a submission, but it wasn’t used so posting here.

Very pleased that three of my found prose poems have also found a place here at Anthropocene – with thanks to Charlie Baylis.

I have enjoyed reading the other writers here and am delighted to be included in this mix: the site is simply but potently dedicated to poetry.

Pleased to be here. Thank you Dennis Haritou.

To get back to the
half a tablet,

however manmade,
you were its personality.

The truth was
a warning

and it really was a city:
cloth and groovy and heaven

and notwithstanding fun
please be advised –

can you hear
god’s tears?

The most courteous recital
and a farmer explained

there is no badly manufactured
love

and everything
was alright

with a thruway closed
for breakfast in bed.

Just their ideas,
they were

and a parking lot
full of personality and dress.

But kids
you young people

and today’s real poison.
All you need is.

Being in a world today that has so clearly not fulfilled the dream of Woodstock, I will still spend some time reliving that naive aspiration in a no-longer-a-young-teenager celebration of its 50th anniversary.