An underlying sense of counting down -
A rhythm deep: enteric thuds -
Each another year to fret and frown
About, wading in the claggy muds
...
Red bled the sun upon a dying day.
I was red across the dial – in denial –
Purple bags bemoaning alcoholics’ eyes –
Blind, they still portray a depth of ruin
...
‘Twas deep; so deep of night,
When I saw what I had seen -
So truly deep of night,
When I went where I had been,
...
Speak to me –
Speak thro’ drifting clouds
O! sing to me –
...
We strolled along, the wife and I,
To turn upon a wood nearby,
And in the centre glade of green,
Beheld we both a dazzling scene.
...
I walked a league and o'er the moor;
I walked and walked as ne’er before,
And on to walk from dale to hill
And on again to claim the thrill.
...
The bitter coffee kicked;
I shook and then I licked
My lips and gave a sigh.
...
Moon, you have a shade of blue tonight –
Is it something that you saw or heard?
Only yesterday, your tone was proud and bright,
Yellow silver, full, and so assured.
...
Oh blade you'll warm tonight!
Awash in crimson-purple flows,
Your sheen will dull with aching flesh:
Palpating anatomic mounds
...
April, dear April, I beg you come soon –
And bring your sweet primroses too.
Let them join in with the daffodils’ play,
As skies offer sunshine anew.
...