In escaping from a box he was imprisoned in the radio.
Alone and exposed.
As punishment, crowds threw tomatoes, heavy stones, their troubles.
Being a vegetarian he made a Moroccan salad,
being a stonebreaker he interviewed the igneous hardmen,
revealed the metamorphosized victims ,
undermined the sedimentary institutions;
but being David Dunseith he co-ordinated their fragment of the troubles
adding the dimensions of myth and history.
In honour we threw laurel wreaths,
and crowds more tomatoes, heavy stones, troubles and respect;
remember thou art mortal.
“But let’s not get side tracked.”
A funeral wreath, immortal
David Dunseith, may he rest in peace.
All teased out.