Tag: writing
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Sibylline books
Indulging in more lines than ordnance survey maps Best laid plan ‘twixt mouse and man Bat flight across vast mapless tracts In rightlight passing flies may cast dragonshadows A line millennia taut suddenly slackens And none of the consulted prophecies illuminate the pattern.
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God of the bus stop
Dying to feel fuck all, get a buzz on at all times Bristling at cold whistling Spandau’s Gold at the bus stop, Ormeau Road With my hand out like a cordial offer to a former foe Passed the old graveyard, whistled Hymn to Pan, accidentally invoked Chaos I couldn’t control in my left hand Tossed…
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The last picture
Lightning flashes Like a flasher’s camera On the date of his capture Plans carefully made suddenly unravel Hidden pasts given up naturally, Time’s way of caring. The light from the bolt divorced the victim’s last picture From a night alike a whiteless knight’s colt’s black coat. In a dirty alley, his curt life ended badly…
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The secret of sitting for portraits
Sitting for courtly portraits Hours unmoving, some find torturous I slink off, go somewhere else, you see Escape through a portal into outer Me Gateless, without palisades No corners, shapes or names Where elephants, grapes, bridges, hadrosaurs and regretted days Are each one and one the same; A place where is and is not shame…
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Crocuses
Dull, sunless months suffering penniless under coin-metred light Crocuses showing despite, sun-summoned Rice white the blindeye-like snowdrops probe impolitely Light-impelled, the breathless writer so lacking in editors Slathers menacing patterns upon the mud abutting the delta Stars not unlike me on the underside of the robe of night. Go out and shine no matter how…
Alchemisland 