Echo

Echo. Photograph

Echo

that midnight spell

when we capered in moonlight

felled trees with shafts of cold precision

and waited for the morning dew

to lay diamonds on the day

though nothing was sordid

not like an inhabited day

which rains through grimy overlays

but now, in silence

the dark and smothered perspective

is waiting for sound

to give distance away

Man O’ War

Man O' War

Man O’ War

Man O’ War

 

Stragglers that languish

In the sea of consciousness

Drift and hope, almost gripped

By ennui

Though sometimes the strands of thought

Go fishing and drag watery membranes

Against a flowing tide of loss

To snare or snatch at luminescence

 

Electric sparks of colour

 

Illuminate a word or thought

And travel quickly to the lode

That mother ship

Where all the others jostle

In their queues of confusion

Simpering and damp with memory

Oh, I am host to all of those

Nervous tics

 

Electric sparks of colour

 

Sucked-up through tendrils

That tremble on the oceans currents

As dreams weave amongst the fathoms

Forever present in the swell

And ready to vanish on a tide

With the broiling enigma

In a long tangle

Of DNA

 

Electric sparks of colour