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.
Monday, 31 December 2018
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.
Saturday, 22 December 2018
talk about anger
talk about anger
your anger
when I refuse it
my anger
with your face
mirrored in it
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
self-immolation after Banksy's recent self-destructing piece - thoughts on the impermanence of art
do androids dream of… ? - intelligence, artificial and otherwise…
Winter Solstice
self-immolation after Banksy's recent self-destructing piece - thoughts on the impermanence of art
Thursday, 20 December 2018
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?