Travel

Wetland shine chases tears over harsh ground,
Outrun latent loss before a storm broke
It wasn't in us,
cry, cry, cry a wounded landscape, write it well.

It's cold and the station stinks of piss and trouble.

Season

Seasonal confusion trips me up on the front step.
Unsentimental wind pushes my feet from under an unsentimental sky
Me and the cat are both enjoying a change of view
I run the childhood poems through my head as November's March winds allow me change unpredicted, unknown, unforeseen, unable, disabled.

Flat

Flatland skylines broaden a blue line,
possibility weakens under a race to hold on.

Heron heads home to upriver renewal, lucky heron.

Leaves

An accidental redemptive solution pulls a car off a tree stump forty years after the square inch patches of hair pulled from my scalp smarted into auditorium darkness with no escape before the end of the film, but then I did escape from frying pan to fire, a decade on and a chink of light drew me from the underworld. Today I'm learning not to drink poison when I'm thirsty or eat shit when I'm hungry.