Teach us to sit still.
– T.E. Lawrence

He wandered, he roved; he shuffled, he roamed; he pounded, he expounded, he strode and he strolled.

Perry Pathetic, we called him, this peripatetic poet who paced the streets of Paris, flogging his verse to all and sundry. “My work I have costed,” he told whoever he accosted, “and I’ll spin you a rhyme, if you slip me a dime,” or words to that effect.

Now his walking does the talking, it has no rhyme nor reason: he is poetry in motion.