Poetry

Something, Anything Lines on a page lay low Faced with the weight of an empty soul Who knew that a vacuum could feel so heavy The crisp, 80gsm with its manufactured margin Red-lined,

I see nothing past The shadows no longer cast For the sun has gone 20/07/2022

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,

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,

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,