Wednesday, 30 September 2015

1 New Poem

Something Greater

It is to long for something better,
apart and far from bruising of brushfire,
in Birkbeck bricks and King’s colleges
though the grindstone teeth, nightcap book pages
burning oil thousands off miles,

in hope of greater fortune coming.

It is to be for something grand,
apart and far from shaking crowd’s scorn,
the blue-orange light of sloping bottle pill
mornings, staining windows and chalk dust
scrambles in dark corners, needle glint,

in dance of struggle, placards, colour red.

It is to want for something greater,
apart and far from sun-piercing shadows
how you water mouths for reckless-remembered
scar tissue, and the heart takes what it will,
but then isn’t in so convenient,

to be loved in closer manners?

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