Clay Ball

Ball

Of moulded clay

Grey as the squirrel

Textured as the elephant's skin

Don’t

Forget my impression

Pressed as I rested

As I contemplated

How

A clay ball

Could cast the

Memories of ages

Ball

Don’t

How

Then, or now

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Sunshine Before One + Places To Be Sacred

Lilac

Sunshine strikes, before

And after one

Photographs

Memories of pikes

And pickled persimmon

Poppies

Haze that raised

The shades of vermillion

Candles

Skies lit by the grace

Of readers defiled by Gideon

The words said no reminders

And you send none

To remind me

But I enjoy

Do I not

To think of you

Remember

You send me

Spaces to remind me

The words said

To burn

A sacrificial letter

I sent to you

The dust, it was

My super sacrificial gesture

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If Not Used

Tonight, not quite

As darkness falls

The frost not thawed

Or if thawed

The frost re-frosted

The bronze

The marble

The tin and tambourine

Land of winter’s

Silver screen

The thoughts

Not thawed

Or if thawed

Thoughts re-thought

Soldiers, statues, fields

Of fallen clay

Tomorrow

Not quite

More any other day

As darkness falls

Ammunition

Unused

If not used

At least you tried

Or did you lie

The iron

The stone

The crimson

Canteen

Lost land of winter’s

Mist on mean

Chords of electric

Wire, unused

If not used

At least you plied

Or did you try

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Town Folk + Side Stage

The platform straight and true

The locomotive there to take me to

Causeways of red and white and blue

The ticker-tape

The Shangri la

A countryside stream for my weeping jar

Railway porter ought your trade to pass

Not along the lines to slaughter

Away from wind lost lass

The ticker-tape

The home come welcome

I’ve missed you so much Ma

My townfolk

My northern star

You could have been…

The darkness

That lonely room

Useless space, frustration

No more to achieve

No other voices

The musicians

The magicians

The harlequins

Still and noiseless

Covered in dust

Despair enters

From the dark side

The stage lights

Are turned low

The gods also out of sight

As stories stay to remain untold

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Who Goes There Goes There + But

It is not so dark now

Even in the darkest hours

That dark despair of despondency

That death of nights and empty gestures

The sun on my shoulders

The frost on the trees

It is not so dark now

Whosoever goes by

Who goes there goes there

I stand in my own place

The warmth through the blue sky

The peace of patience to share

You could have been…

But what about your brother

Yes, you could have been…

But what about your mother

Oh yes, you could have been…

But what about the others

Such a shame, surely you could have been…

But what about our band of brothers

Well perhaps instead, maybe you could have been…

But what about those fucker mothers

See you’ve seen, what you could have…

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