Friday, 29 December 2017

1 New Poem

Rogue Sparks

Coming this way is cigarette ember,
put out on metal
receptacle ridge, wetted down with
ocean air and admiral fell
promises of evening balm,
of little flickers in pyre
wood, piled delicate between
sense memory of excitement
tied up with whipping chords

Of four-walled days, drawing
sense coming back metallic,
distorted, watery, no longer recognized.

To go out chasing,
the skywriting of surprise,
bowing to boot wash

But glowing there a
second more, the same
as ever.

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