South Coast

Hovering over

old erosion and three quarter moon

 is master fisher,

tern.

Above, water

bedazzles with its glinting gold

surface.

Immersed in imagined musics,

soundtracks down my wrist.

I play in the shallows;

deepest sorrows

 washed away.

Whispered Little Nothings

Where  physic and Psyche meet the stars

wandering away to an eternity

that our querulous voices

dispute,

beneath shadows of nonentity.

 We sing  before the starlight steppes.

 The duality of our unity

is lost:

as we crush brother fly.

sister mosquito

and ms multitudinous

fowl,

with no love,

or thought.

Happy Bicentenary Men

The final bloom was sick infection floating on the skin of Gaia. Fools who had heard the word reached in their pockets to scatter coin against the whirling of dust. All their lucre bought time. They siphoned life from the coagulating blood in the veiny carcasses of the poor. Their grab for scrapes of eternity found them housed in the plastic bubbles foretold by the dystopians. In the false atmospheres and the eco friendly air-conditioning of their little green tombs they looked out at a planet falling into fetid coma, stars still blinking on the horizon, and at the last knew true loneliness.

stalin

Papa Joe ,stalling,  threw the "charlatan"physician’s corpses into the void that they  refused to cure for him, alone.

end of empire

here,

the end of empire

resounds to

a smell of  rotting flowers

and tastes

of  the

repetitive crow

waning.

Poem With No Fixed Address

Poem With No Fixed Address

Avert not your eyes to count

either pennies or worries

look with joy

on this dying and spiteful world.