Archive for August, 2006

Poem: The end of battle


I was brought here to write
but all I do is summon infantry,
those posers
authentic with dollar bills
and guns (a trite word
portraying power as weak)
and Rudolph bloody knows,
streams down the Serpentine
regardless. Like glass
he only reflects. He does
not ponder the meaning.

What happened
to the penicillin?

Shine on, you sullen moon! Pale light,
foolish dreamings brought me here
to this grey land
of broken promises
and turpentine – gateway
to the party. Why smile?
I am forlorn. Without the sun
I am quandary,
repetition,
dull echoes of yesterday.

I hear a voice I do not recognise.

That line in the hand – see?
It is flawed either way.

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Wednesday, August 30th, 2006