Anthony Burge

The graveyard watch on a squid ink sea

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

Revolving light

Burning bright
...

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.
...

Fly my heart above the sea on cusp of broken wave

Salted down and waterlogged on albatross beak staved
...

Cancel the light

come gorge on the dark
...

I’m stuck in the mud and it’s holding me down
Can’t see through the mire and I can’t hear a sound
...

A large Cod is backed into the galley

Lips agape his bottom jaw protruding
...

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
...

Black moon smudged across aubergine sky

Ginger crowned flying fox loping by
...

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
...

Whistled the weaving wind

Teasing through the trees
...

Through rapid eye in slowest motion

With limbs of lead, wade treacle-ocean.
...

Indeed the waters toiled through troubles.

Changing temps from ice boiled bubbles.
...

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
...