Could I have done much better?
  I don’t doubt that I could.
For example — in more kindliness,
  That decoy flight to good.

But could I have tried harder?
  No — and I’ll tell you why,
My aim was flawed, but then again,
  The rate of fire was high.

Indeed, too high, too passionate
  For lover, friend or foe,
A selfish hail to weave a veil
  Behind which none might go.

Should I have been more moderate
  Or scaled the scholar’s scree?
Perhaps I could’ve, should’ve, might...
  But would I have stayed me?

I made the road by walking it,
  Not as a scholar strives,
There are no giant’s backs to climb
  In Soho bars and dives.

And did I care to learn to care?
  And should I have, back then?
My dad had loaded wings with death
  To murder other men.

When families were damaged goods,
  Disguising their despair
As uncles slurred: ‘Bear up, old man,’
  Who dared to learn to care?

And what of those things spiritual
  Which languished in disuse?
Were all my songs in Darwin’s praise
  Convenient excuse?

And might I have reached out a hand
  More often than I did?
We’re back to kindliness, I think,
  That upturned pyramid...

And may I now ‘forgive’ myself —
  The quest, the beast in view,
The inner child unreconciled?
          Dear Christ —
                       I wish I knew!