I was asked by several people after writing a number of poems
of that kind why I never read nice poems,
and I cast about for a way of writing a monologue, which
would seem to satisfy this.
And I tried to write a number from the standpoint
of very small children, I'd like to read you one of these.
I wanted to get the psychology of a child at the age
before it's really become adult enough
to grasp how to use the word I.
When children are very little that they
refer to themselves not as I, but by their first names.
They say, Mary likes this or Johnny,
wants this, whatever it is.
Well, I imagined a child that thought
its name was Who, possibly because its mother
had lent over it in the pram and said, Who is a bad boy.
This happens in America, does it?
It's a standard phrase in England.
So throughout this poem a child refers to itself as Who.
"A Child's Garden."
Who was here before his cat washed and rose
without his shoes.
Who inched outside while someone's hat made a noise,
the light feet helped.
Whose, whose are these eggs?
Lady bird's.
Hard like crumbs of sleep.
She flies off to help Who finds some words for sounds
and things.
Whose two puffed eyes tug at flowers now
for bees tucked away.
Some tried to hide in potting foxglove's jugs.
Who sees their fat bear's thighs though,
wedged inside scowling honey.
Look, rare stones in lupin leaves.
Who's flapping gown shakes them all out.
Ow, whose bones aren't awake, make
Who fall down biting earth.
Who hears a sound Whose are these wet softish
hairs brushing someone's mouth?
Can bound as quick as you, whoosh!
Peter scares a thin bird--
zip, sqawk.
Its beak almost nipped Who's fattest worm, head and tail.
Who sees him squeak through the grass.
Who sees him squirm down a hole.
Who wants to kiss his frightened worm.
Who's coolish knees push him up to clematis
he thinks it's called.
It makes him sneeze.
Goose flesh comes.
Who's bare toes rake up oily slugs.
Who wants to hop skip.
Who's flopping tassels make ants run.
Who hears his crispies pop.
Kellogg's pay me a fortune to throw in that commercial
in the last line.