Maintenance and Repair

Compression lines
fold and crease,
weariness comes of age
as sleep will, in the end,
inside these machines
where our ghosts
barely survive:
hardly a wisp of being,
a glisten of lubrication,
a mist of droplets
around the cogs.

talk about anger

talk about anger

your anger
when I refuse it

my anger
with your face
mirrored in it

A9

Clear sky and snow on the farthest hills
lose themselves as cloud and mist
trouble the summits.

Poetry24 Resumed

I had nineteen poems published by Martin at Poetry24 since January 2018. Here's the last three of 2018 – do androids dream of… ?, self-immolation and Winter Solstice.

Winter Solstice

Winter Solstice

self-immolation after Banksy's recent self-destructing piece - thoughts on the impermanence of art

self-immolation

do androids dream of… ? - intelligence, artificial and otherwise…

do androids dream of… ?

Stars

At midnight’s
point of bleakness
cloud lifted, stripped away
the oppression of weather;
sky, then, revealed starlight;
as if nothing before had shone
through emptiness;
as if nothing before had ever
punctured that shroud of black,
lifeless space.

Moon

Paleness
in the grey hours
showed as a doorway
through black dark,
marked time’s season
month upon month;
a flake of cloud faded
in sky-blue day
a pearl of sunlight
borrowed and thrown back,
gathered night’s gentle light.

Sun

The day’s one good eye,
looked down on
the wicked and the holy;
cast its light
on neutral ground,
illuminated a world.

Nationheid?

Fit name
For the handfae dirt
Ye’re stannin on?

Fit name
For air or weather,
Yer ain face looking through ane
As ye breathe the ither in?