Ozymandias Recycled

A traveller 

mocked a king,
beside the sand
round which cold passions
command decay
and said,

‘Frown away,
sneer, half despair,
look on the desert sands,
sunk and level;
bare the lip,
read these lifeless words
far from those stone remains
that met the wreck of things.

almost gothic

seaward dusk

a woman
hair spun black
as midnight

Faces

Faces,
white as cumulus,
people the clouds;
expressions drift
with the weather;
a dark nimbus
shadows their eyes.

chamaenerion

fenced
plantation woods
bracken banks and
chamaenerion
rising into
summer

in search of…

someone went in search of
   God
in the lines of a book
   between cracks in creation