Anthony Dawson Poems

Early morning changes my colour,
Weakens my magnet for you to escape into sleep
I asked the girl in the corridor if she was a
Morning bird, she smiled then floated into the
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Scanitly clad women roam the floors of nighclubs, hotels;
Expose flesh on the beach, materialize the lust in men.
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Your shanty sits on a hill,

above filth below will.
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Clouds are my moving treasure, free, abundant, looming

as grey death or simply washing clean a slate of trials.
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The quarry
A dangerous place
Scab on the earth
An operation of take
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Noises in the night under dark cloud skies

That keep missing the moon.
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You!

I was just dreaming of you.
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Resist the temptation to yell
as this expression gets under my skin;
I shudder and my soul is disturbed.
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I can't yet hear the grind of the factory
I have just woken and my heart is racing
My heart is a racing fuse
Today I begin life as someone else
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