LET THERE BE …
Since words first fell Into the void White noise has swelled in Over seven thousand tongues It peaks and rolls In never ending waves Ordering you to come down here And get fleshed out, manned up Behind some cause
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PALM SUNDAY
The unwanted bray, Uncouth, uncontrolled Erupts from this embarrassment Of an animal in sudden surprise Heads turn, and the butt of derision Plods doggedly unaware Of good grooming and the dignity Of the occasion
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FRACTURE
Noise vandalises quiet Fragments of colour Dislocate and splinter In the heavy air Voices compete For a thin thread Of attention
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RECONSTRUCTION
Wounds healed over Stitches dissolved New skin shines pearl-like In the morning sun Stretches to touch The wholeness Of things placed Just where they should be
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PENTECOST DREAM
Fine rain From way beyond Our consciousness Falls undefiled Transparent pure Devoid of acid Human waste
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WILDERNESS
High towers once inalienable Upended one by one The dust of their falling Sticks to the clothes, grits in the toes As we stagger ill-shod and unbelieving Through the wasteland Of past certainties Our hearts shot through With the insult of this And all betrayals
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ERASURE
It starts with a fingerprint Dirt denting the corner Of soft cream vellum Cotton fibres interlocked With care over time
Attention is drawn From artwork to stain
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SOUNDSCAPE
The music of ‘wellness’ Washed clean of all colour Plays out its servitude In the glass lift Boards of directors having concluded That calm can be conjured From shallow waters The panic of thought Contained by the bland
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NOW
Now can’t be edited Burnished in the looking back Until it is past
But the fear of winter’s devastation The unravelling it brings Can derail it
Sitting quiet with Now Takes some attention
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