Category: Filí my pockets
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Following broken surf to an erstwhile desert made of now-dust once-certainty
My soul became So blotted a page Nothing white cotton remained. Something’s stuck in my eye I had to say. Through at fugitive pace The churned way she has assuredly taken, Where the lurid and satyr find their safe haven.
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Judas trees
For his betraying Christ, tonight we are out wren hunting. From this aping of Naboth’s grapery We uproot every elder trace Who fast held as Judas gasped His neck having failed to snap.
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Do hands dream?
Too shy to raise my hand and ask I would rather waddle home damp My sealed thighs bundling soiled strides Hanging loincloth pendent otherwise Far from then now, far as gate-tending Time allows I’m happy asking now. In fact, I’m happy announcing aloud, freed of tact Exactly what denomination of ablution will be afoot in…
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Secret bonfires
I watched a mucky sod suddenly sodden with startled starling shadows Knew God. Struck out for new clod, floundered in cod-haunted shallows I imagined dashed ambitions matching my uncapturable mission: Flodden King bonnie King dead, bonfire-fit banner trodden; Napoleon’s modern Army newly modelled useless as quadriremes bottled. You could not accuse this wittering ditherer of…
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Worthy remnant
This patch once a brightly-addled field What of that remains now breath-straining ash conceals; Beneath clay layers minute as flea caskets bask rent steels Spurs for steers who faced austerely fearsome spears Muskets pristine and unfired as Wuthering Heights’ hearths. I feel translucent Train lucented-night trains me Draining, sluiced of all remaining memory Straining still…
Alchemisland 