The Dark Iron-Tree

North wolf-door belongs

To the Devil in songs;

The dark iron-tree

Born of dead-sky-sea

Fell through fire, slate

Thick boar-skull plate

And dragon-crest helm

Into the Albion magic realm.

Another Quiet Day

“Another quiet day in Paradise,”

The lonely angel sobs,

“Perhaps I got too many things wrong

Where I was before –

Or got too many of them right?

But, truly, I cannot settle here

Between the scarlet and the spire.”

 

“Sadly, there can be no excuse

For, this, my attitude …

Nor any question of escape

For I cannot cease to be.”

 

27/2/2012

Moto GP, Qatar

Twenty six summers

Riding a thousand angry bees

For the first competition time.

 

Blacktack rope tied

Around burning sands:

All of the things

That are going to happen

Between these corners.

Let everyone be here

When the last flag falls.

 

8/4/2012