Inca’s, temples and ruins

Inca's, temples and ruins. pic


the sun sweats it’s golden harvest

showering gifts and glistening just as

the ancients worshiped with their beliefs

shaped by pearls that were tears of the moon

come down like mercury to measure and reward  faith

 gods and idols worked so hard to stretch out into space

yet for all they knew the earth was flat

and now

we do the same but we have invented a vacuum

a spinning-top

moving fast and making danger commonplace

so now we face a holocaust in which

all that knowledge may go to waste

and all the dreams go dark

Appendectomy 5.5.17

Appendectomy.5.5.17 pic

they are apparitions

wand like figures

on a bent horizon

so diffident they can’t explain

released from the holding room

my body transcends it’s organs

and slips beyond responsibility

to that place where darkness is not king

for the fear has been released

so that white bleaches the figures

whose honed titanium blades slit

the fortress of my containing skin

their spoils are mine, to discard

my body relieved these gods disappear

back to a life of their own

and return to me as haunts

Two old camera’s

A collage of old camera's

Two old camera’s


Resting in darkness

Two old camera’s

The box brownie in a tangle of fabric

And a stranger from the eastern bloc

Blinded by neglect

Found objects threatened by dust

They are like monuments

To dreams of the past

Ornaments now. Or relics

No danger to reticent souls

Now turned to art

A form they chased

Delicious. The irony

In metal and glass

Enclosures of dreams

That gently fade away

Scene stealer

Scene stealer

The mist. Impervious quiet
Ranks low over the cold ground
And settles a silken blanket
Over all the inert scenery
Everything I might interpret
Everywhere I may have to navigate
Dumb. Is it dumb?
Implacably indifferent it leeches colour
From the landscape of morning
And questions whether timely progress
Would profit from any enthusiasm
So. Still and quiet without a face
The day just waits
It is impervious to me. Implacable
In the dimness a shared heart
Asks with a throb for us to wait
For what will occur in hide and seek