Night hides in
its own shadows
as
birds,
shouting above
gales
and howling trees
voice welcome
to the morn
Choral society
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We walked, yesterday, in the forest. Collected pine cones, and embraced nature until it scratched our faces with needles. The Christmas decorations will again be green and red.
Reassurance
I’d like to assure you
my faithful public, that
I AM NOT DEAD
but
its hard to be certain
and anyway
only God
and doctors
can see inside
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The failed meat puppet nests
sat
watched
by a clutter of baggage
haloed by
an
electronic angel
TV’s storied outlines
of what could have been
This, then.
Another start after all of the delays. Looking into the mirror is no longer enough to quell the need to publicly narciss. I know, I know, but how do you think words ever get created?
When the car stopped, they dared not open their eyes.
About the Ark
Once
long before
nothing had happened
there was everything
optimism
and
hope
From this to this
Its been some considerable time since I’ve written any commentary about the day to day. After all, the poetry is my documentary, and for the periods when the pen is silent, I am probably dead.
But, that aside, some changes have occurred. One that can be published here is that I no longer live in the original city of this place, having moved, last year, across the road* to a new place. This place. Of course.
*In this instance, the road is indicative of a geological boundary, as well as a means of transport.
The old place – or That Place, as it is now known – is a past whose memories can be kept alive as only the happiness of guilt and regret can muster.
All of now
They
of whom we think
when
remembering times best
forgot
live on
resplendent in all
of our rich
majestic
fears and
insecurities
Sunday Market
We looked into the window but the figure didn’t respond. Swathed in the most expensive of that season’s goods, it looked blankly to entice a materialistic world to enter the shrine and make offerings for the religion of credit. Nothing to do but to purchase. Besides, even the churches charged entry on a Sunday, now that God was just a figure selling entry to a tourist attraction.