Detachment
Detachment
There's something to be said
About burying your head
Playing on while Rome burns
Blinking at catastrophe
Weaving Armageddon
Into life's more superficial twists and turns
And so,
Jon Collins
Two Spheres
Two Spheres
It ends, as it began
A final, crisp, cut-glass coat
On grass and branch and leaf
Cold sky and burning sun conspire
A frosted fire, and beneath, the ground
Once ice-hardened,
What you know
Write about what you know, they said. What, I thought- my childhood? That continuum of non- descript non-events that somehow went to define me? Of solitary walks to school, collecting Smurf stickers from
Solitude
Solitude
Solitude, rushing in like the sea, pushing into every space, overwhelming, changing the level of place between what can be breathed and what now lies, submerged, beneath the wave-licked ebb and flow,
The Armed Man
This "come and sing" session was delightful, albeit a bit discomfiting due to the lack of tenors and my close proximity to the Kings Singer who was running it. I apologised