Something Is Squeezing My Skull

Exhumed from dinosaur wombs
We are the closest
Rock to damnation,
Weeping wounds
Of savage(d) Gods.

Fossilised firmament of
Feathered wing tip,
Quill inscribed patterns
Bayonet tapestries:
We repeat desecration, sabotage,
As pigs filing back to abattoir.

Rhapsody of reliquary bleeds
O’er plastic vases and paper plinths,
Urns of rosary beads, rowed
Along sunset kerbs:
Suffer the little orphans.
 
Thus the night,
Mounts stone bird shoulders
Has come
Ghost mortem,
To mourn her death.

Forever snow will remember
Falling December tides -
Eternal sailor will
Navigate Mary Celeste, at
Slight angle to the universe.
Diving swallows will sigh
To desolate beaches,
Of all that they saw.

Looking to Tunguska trees
For the language we use.
Strange horses dwell in mist
Waiting for wet fog to
Weft plough thru' landscapes.

Love will survive
It always does.

“They think we’re extinct.”
The superintendent’s giant
Head raised slowly, howled
Growls from deep within.
Thousand pairs dark eyes flickered;
An approval of grunts.
Cavern filled with sour
Stench of Jurassic bodies.
“Time to go.”
Above,
Washington rioted.



*Title unashamedly stolen from Morrissey.

pic. ‘Human Shadow of Death.’ Hiroshima Branch of Sumitomo Bank after the bomb.  The poor soul had been sitting on stone step waiting for the bank to open when the heat from the bomb burned the surrounding stone white and left their shadow.