an orchestra chase
’s slumberers although
dreaming this
a sky’s shiver
in that thick cloak
out of season
the street flying
roofs & those beaks
laughtering
my head is starting to snow!
it looked so pretty from here
foot felled
then what do we do with the unconscious? – trotsky
why are you a box
of biscuits? (grey satiny light)
they’ll never dig us
up we’ll always be
hourglasses
i can tell you are afraid
can tell you are afraid
tell you are afraid
an orchestra is silence
in the same way a room
in a night / alcohol
they call us by their names
we can do nothing but answer
trees moving thru unmoving breeze.
Really liked this stanza:
ReplyDeletea sky’s shiver
in that thick cloak
out of season
thanks Gordon :-)
ReplyDeleteHave you read Geraldine Monk's 'Lobe Scarps & Finials' (Leafe Press)?
"everything was elsewhere and
being England it was cloudy."