Rooftop ripples
Sun swings lazy
Down the gleaming gutter
And the tiles hot
Baking brittle, peeling
Chimney a squat idol
Golden brick worship
Sidewalk snail
Walking along slow
Heat rising
Concrete cracks
In rectangular pattern
Step step look down
Sea-bird swirl
Over the salt wind the silica
Beach blanket
Rough-weave, grainy
Glistening glare
Of the sun-bake
Low wind whisper
–- 'in the context of some art we must disintegrate and be reconnected with the passion of destruction' --
The moon's rare sinuousness
I can’t put my hand on it
Unearthly. It’s unearthly
How it looks warm and buttery from far
“A bit of handiwork – and he destroys the moon!”
But it always came back somehow
When I was young I thought about sight
A ground plan that burns and gnaws
Down all the formless places
what happens when
The sun goes down again? The pattern wears,
It's gone, no sudden flare will bring it back
The words where I scraped away the white part
(history shown to the sun looking on)
Autumn wind blows through my sleeve
Fallen and windblown, I can return to the fixed stars
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