There’s the future:
Take a good long look.
It’s right there before you
Suspended in green, safe ice
While you’re running away,
Borders of flags,
Trading words for waves,
And the promise of fair winds.
A gun is always a gun
But a song can be more powerful.
There is, apparently a legend that predicts
That, sometime soon, the lunatics,
Released from wasp-paper grey cells
Will endeavour to devour the orange-moon,
Swallow it whole, tear its
Changing face to tiny shreds, Continue reading