How Yah Doon? Pat Woodcock

Keith and the Kirkjug
by Pat Woodcock

It was near the center of Reykjavik,
in a cemetery where they would later
dance and sing upon mattresses of moss,
that they found the KirkJug.

There were even trees, yes, and an
upright-bass lumbered
through the graves like a ship’s hull
dragging land to water over land. Do you

believe in their trumpeting? They were building
song out of stone and lead.
They were praying that chanting
Long live bins who court the dead.
Long live bins who court the dead.
Would suffice.

Reykjavik

(ed note: a more elaborately laid out vs. of this poem exists but my editing software is held together by gum and string. Oh. Oh. Oh. Layton!)