Comments about Anthony Dawson
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
So easy for her
Does she know of her boyfriends addiction?
The sea has tempted me from Europe
I can't abide by words; they are forever changing,
Working towards a plot for some insane script.
The funeral of a small town
Don't send flowers
Donate them to guilt
Innocence once held power
Now, not even a memory can realise the coup.
Her eyes ...
Clouds are my moving treasure, free, abundant, looming
as grey death or simply washing clean a slate of trials.
Hush your cries,
learn from your stolen promises;
the sun is no longer as certain as the expected death of a window