Where Speed Is Silver

desert
This eternity-dry furnace land
Regularly eating itself for a living;
This bed of suns,
Casual death of Empires,
Bed of suns wrath,
Migrant’s merciless gauntlet.

Djinn-guard grains,
Impossible sky in flaked-rock ground,
So that simple water,
That which you so desperately need –
And, indeed
Can sea-sand-see –
Is just not there
(…and never was!)

Where speed is silver,
Quicker than thought;
Where breath is spent
Before it’s taken …
And resurrection is
A rootless, long dead tree.

31/1/2013

Photo from tangledwing.wordpress. com (if any objections to my use of this please contact me, I have no wish to use anything without permissions.)

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The Best Fiddlers

The Best Fiddlers

Nailhead moon is a
Soundless, sun-at-night howl;
Goblin airs and spirit winds
Hurry to join the hunt.
Cloudless Victorian-ink sky
Gives no place to hide,
Shrinks violently away
With breathless, boneless
Silent ghost of scream.

There is fear abroad this night,
Be never in doubt –
For the Devil is undoubtedly
Evil incarnate –
But doesn’t he also have
The best fiddlers?

28/1/2013

Even When …

Now
The discontent
Of our winter
Slips away;
The spearshake distraction,
Out through the in door –
So swiftly we have to
Concentrate double-hard
To remember why it was –
Like money,
Even when you are careful;
Like love,
Even when you are committed.

27/1/2013

The Brightest Apes

January is a time-torn storm,
Roaring vortex doorway of the year;
Watch-storm wizard,
Wind-both-ways blizzard.
The past is new,
The future a fossil;
Flakes of white are
Memories gone and
Those not yet lived.

We stand on the threshold,
Smug, for after all,
We are the brightest apes.
We stamp-dance, fret or weep
Like small children,
Powerless, startled and chilled;
A little a-feared,
Over-faced, overawed and overwhelmed:
The brightest apes,
the most intelligent fools.

25/1/2013

She Thinks She has …

Silhouette-at-first-girl
In the hightower spotlight,
Snow and rock falling past
Once blonde hair onto
Slim, bare shouldres.
She has her own garbage can booked
In a special, reserved corner of hell;
But that must wait.

It’s not about history,
However impressive, it’s
About now, the show,
Adrenaline and the
Ten thousand points of light …
The ones many people never see.

When the fork-tailed
‘phistpheles angel comes,
No doubt, she’ll struggle, cry,
Plead, argue, go
For his damned eyes,
With broken nails and all
The spite she thinks she has.

But, she made a deal,
Is fine with that,
And between now and then
She’ll pay for powder,
Devour the music,
Give the naked fool everything,
Everything he thinks he needs.

24/1/2013

Dawn’s Light

Hunters become devout pilgrims,
Travelling with deepwater- placid dedication.
Vultures as prophets soar.
Side by hot bodied side,
In cold ocean tide,
We measure our histories,
Play, or not,
Our courts and cards.
Dawn’s light will, anyway,
Cast us as rivals, losers or lovers.

If everything here seems upside down,
The sun too hot,
The days too long;
Somewhere else, have never a doubt,
It will be just right,
The rocks will be ice,
The children fed.

24/1/2013