To simper

To simper. pic

 

i change my clothes and summon my shoes

to lead me away into another view

all change except that nothing does

the pavement cracked, still, a million miles away

still oppresses and haunts

cool water blending on golden sand

refuses to lower the mercury on

this scale of pain

so i come back to the soiled outer-wear

and stew

for i can see in the imminence of the view

truth with its implacable head

is resolute

and i must bend, take another route

but stay stock still, naked in this pool

my very own

casserole

Derision

Derision. pic

‘it’s beautiful’,  he said

from the bottom of the wishing well

his eyes, intent, squirming

to find light and  traces of form

for a way out, a clue. A shape revealed.

A helix. An escape. An easy win

like the numbers on a lottery ticket

yet always they seem so distant

so not palpable. Fathoms below and miles above

 they are treasures of the rainbow. Ephemera.

 

And so he went on saying things

clutching at all forms of optimism

knowing that in truth he was going blind

as the bets were lost

All belief, beggared and lost in shallows

the words just backward utterances. Infarcts.

The light going skinny, malnourished to a fade

so grey and white that winter would muscle in

even into this empty spring

from which, when he looked up

he saw death with petals in his eyes

and the earth, a crust at their rims

So many scattered things