Jan06

Early morning song, Stinging bitterness. Early morning smog From distant pyres. Charred and ruined Among the ashes: A lonely sword, Lonely sword, broken. Remaining is the worst part, Going on knowing What was wrong. Fanning up the flames And stoking up the fires And making a martyr For all your pains. Joan of Arc, French…

Jan05

Let me wait, still and alone, When I’m ragged skin and twisted bone, Like carrion amid the waste land; Let me wait, alone in the deserted streets, My shock and missed heartbeats At empty gas-lit nights in cold single sleeping bag beds And dustbin lid dinners with rubbish buffet spreads: An empty heartbeat stalking me…