Saturday, 17 December 2011

Some kind of Halleluiah

He put his heart in a box and buried it deep, beneath the figures of speech and the civil smile.

She traced the map of his conscious life with fervid eyes - familiar ruins and flat blue rivers and listed streets. Everything led to no particular place.

She looked to the body's glitches (rare and bright). Sometimes, there were sweat traces. Fingers twitched. He drew himself in as soon as he saw her thin thread of a smile.

One day, the growing stink will lead her to the troubled earth. He’ll pass her the shovel - a broken boy again - too tired for lies.

Last Orders

A cheery one for Christmas. I'm not sure where it came from.

Something’s crawling at the eyes’ far edge.
A worm of old new light slips through the fence,
Unthinking, silver, hungry to partake
Of ordinary vision’s hang dog flesh.

This final light is everybody’s due.
The Inbetween fills out our meagre scope
And what we are becomes much less than dust.
Each sentence shrivels on the drying tongue.

It’s time for you and I to kiss goodbye.
The ghost of us, evaporating fast,
Leaves a tender music to be sung
Here, wrapped up in nowhere, in no time.