Micro Poems

Spent some time this week writing a series of short poems in the old Moleskine, mostly written while smoking and waiting for people. Here are some of them.

Together
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We walk across ice,
Holes-
For falling in,
Or to fish.


Scaffolding
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Metal castles of apology,
Promising amends.


Untitled
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Walking through porridge,
With a spirtle for a cane.


Watergate
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Utilitarian cuboids:
The colour of forgotten cigarettes,
Carpet tiles: the colour of a whale-song almost remembered.

To a Container
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Imposing in dying-sun red,
Coffins of capitalism,
Corrugated prisons of desire in desolate Russian blues.