Staring At The Blue Hills

Dust from the red planet rains down and the world renews colour.

(Hyper) Cat

I fear my intelligence has seeped into the cat and now that the transformation is so apparent they would have her transported to the madhouse while they wreathe me with doughnuts of sanity to feed me with reason and sing to my redemption. 

Airmen, Lost At Sea

For now let’s start with silence. Wrap silence around. Make no sound, act no life. Make those moments pass. Make him lay there dead like, make no sound. So leave those runway lights on.

Two Fragments (for W. S. Graham)

Departure I + II

Hurried feet swirl up liquid sand. Sea frontiers recline. Looking out to empty waters she sees light fall, disappear. Torn up and lost, she runs her race enchantedly everywhere. Then, towards vertical cliffs - thin arms on silver crests. And white gulls gliding.

The Day of Judgement

As the muezzin calls for prayer, and church and temple bells toll, five hundred larks rise, as if commanded by some unforeseen power.

The Road

They’ve come to build the way that leads home. Dust blows into their face by a lone gust. The fires are lit, the stone and gravel brought and thrown into a pit. Tar drums quiver in the glowing fires as the horizon shimmers. In the sweltering haze, chewing tobacco, they wait until they venture to gaze into the drums to see the molten thing that’ll be swept upon the stone upon which the gravel shall cling like skin to bone. Flushing red they set to work upon the bed, dumping layers of gravel and tar, so that we know this’ll be a bar to stop the stone from being plucked out by strangers unknown. Then the roller purrs, starts to roll, so that one who is near hears the crunch of tar, gravel and stone. The hiss of steam, the thump of machine and not that of metal alone.