From mist, light:
hard shadows lengthen the day;
once, cow-parsley on road sidings
promised luxuries beyond what
you, young boy, could imagine.
The damp night opens around you now
like a closed fist
relaxing.
Cooled ardour in a summer breeze.
Leaves seem like surreal green spots
as grey becomes blue.
And birdsong - positive as music -
is only catcalls and threats.
Eggs are easily broken;
Small and blue like ice;
small heartbeats brought to life
and ugly skin to frail bone, stretches.
Teeth clench then backs press
now against each other.
Two Cs - one as in a mirror -
Reflecting back to back
a naked gun-slinger's dead sleep.
A baby unborn but grown.
All the little weeds and the hot smell of
growth. All is vacant like lots,
puddles of digital seeing of the
unimaginable and the pale
obviousness of scripted passion.
Such went youth; so went man
and then goes time -
