Voices fill the head,/how blurred words peek through spaces,/gaps in stands of razor grass/to give a well managed contentment,/not yet able to teach/a method for cheating meanings./Late that night, /I remember, I set fire/to a heap of bruised stakes./Wrapped in dark blankets/by the river, Old Muddy/I see you wave your wand, smiling,/like a pointer in the air.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s