Monday 23 January 2012

PLASTIC BUDDHA

these loose easy hot coffee days shine like a Mars.
but
the evenings!
the nights!
are slow cold
are stale tired
are difficult and stubborn.

attempt to file accurate reports when home safe.
but
uninspired!
dead!
awful blank head!
demented clock hands spin round/I am sitting in the kitchen hands still as stone.
midnight
comes
minutes
after
4 pm.

so light so late 
sky rich deep rock blue blooms black
and
the
orange
feathers
fade.
air is empty/eager for autumn to rush in and die.

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