Anthony Burge

The graveyard watch on a squid ink sea

I see the moon and the moon sees me
...

Revolving light

Burning bright
...

A large Cod is backed into the galley

Lips agape his bottom jaw protruding
...

The fog crept twixt the stick straight trees

rolled low across the ground.
...

I have been to that dark space where most would not dare.

Where the lost and forlorn go to shed all there cares.
...

The family’s away and so goes my sun.

I sit on my own in the dark it’s no fun.
...

Sleep eludes my slippery clutch

I reach but she avoids my touch
...

Awakened sudden, fright

night falling, mid flight
...

Where once a rabble of water coursed tickling her bones.

Now a moaning river breeze licks twixt round river stones.
...

Old man artist on a hospital gurney

Rattling lungs tell of life’s hard journey
...

Dazed and contused

medicated haze.
...

The sky was torn, white light shone through

Backlit horizon lit sea askew
...

Cancel the light

come gorge on the dark
...

I watch the mob as they amble on by

On bent crooked legs glassy dark chocolate eyes
...

A kaleidoscope of shell grit coral sands

Grinds through my grasp as it leaks through my hands
...

Fly my heart above the sea on cusp of broken wave

Salted down and waterlogged on albatross beak staved
...

The tilted crescent of a milk blue moon lolls in a salmon sky

Perched amongst the night shade clouds on weighted axis lies
...

My hearts out of rhythm discord in its beat

Synchronism escapes as I march two left feet
...

My compass is haywire,

reads true false, not true north.
...

Star-shot

Bed coral sands of shell grit white
...