Summer unrest

Noon-traipsing antagonist of silence
Midday’s heavy heat no blanket
that cannot be shredded
From the wall’s gleaming white
ceramics stumble and fall
A wake-up call to whom it may concern
The bowl is empty.


Lifted from the grime
unencumbered, unresolved

Wings furtively spread
raining down false residue

Rained-on in the mire
stay the wingless, watching the

Tightening the strings
binding freedom to shoulders

Soaring on the wind
wings unfolded; patterns bared –

Revisiting Kinfla River

Once more at the river
that leads out of here
Deceptively silent

How we used to wonder
What use is a river
Surrounded by ocean?

Now it offers safety
that we used to scorn
Reckless days

An old beggar sitting
Feeding the sea birds
today’s bread

Surrounding shorelines
Littered with harbours
Mid-goals of longing

To be lost out once more
But these days we know:
One’d be lost forever

To unknow it then
Once more scorn the safety
To wish to be lost


Crowded silence
of a sole lantern
in the wood

Swarmed by moths
stalked by trees

Flickering invitation
host of the discourse
of whirring wings

Smoke, the end’s bell
flame sundered
society scattered

But waiting for the wings’ return,
the trees
still stalking

Watching in the dark
for those trapped
in the discourse


The night rain drives them in here.
White neon and guilty looks.
Looking away, looking down, still white-glared upon.
Outside, blurred colourful neon in the dark.
More customers that aren’t, and those that become.
Stranded irregulars
trapping themselves inside the glass walls
looking for a purpose of being here.
Shuffling flicking through magazines.
Alibi hotdog purchases.
Shoving in the door area.
A baby crying.
A toy tantrum.
Someone regrets his hotdog purchase,
woeful looks outside.
But the rain falls on.
And the white light sees all.


Lonesome railway station
Pigeon sitting
Picking at the ground
At certain intervals

Foggy morning, indoors
Human sitting
Sipping coffee
Frequent glances at the watch