i read this dread
i am frightened by this
does time stop at the end of the world
don’t know and don’t know why
but i’m afraid of this
the cogs don’t fit
and all that shit
unable therefor to run away
from the magnetism
the broken light in the prism
fragmented you said
i’m sore afraid that this would happen
snappen kraken blacken
all the kings’s horses
all the king’s men
cannot put me together again
kiddo
blood
how many swear words
are brushed into this painting
run your fingers over the hardened paint
just wait ‘till i get you home
another poem by
RS Thomas
how often his poems hold you
there in disbelief
dumbstruck
turning his words
over and over
but it never is
or will be
but somehow
we turn his page
for him
and we fall out
autumn morn
then
a rustle in the leaves
there’s something
in
there
points >>>
the dog cocks her head
the cat crouches
it’s a breeze
across
my coffee and croissant
sunlight soft
on closed eyes
inhale
there …
neolithic cave drawing
palm to palm
pass the past
a port in the storm
of the time when she drew
the dark around her
singing in the candlelight
the chase was on
down all the caves of hunting
an explanation for it all
dearth called for breakfast
at the breakfast table
a dearth of the dead
they were toast
that wouldn’t stay down
the curse of the un-bread
the pallor of the pollarded
partly dead the party gathered
incensed by thoughts
burnt by offence
beating the table with their knives
beat beat beat
the food of the braying mob
was a fast breaking
trust me i was there
the zombie with aplomb
back silvered back
what mirror doesn’t insist
that you come back
just to be sure
that a different you
is taken away
the receipts on the spike
grow as tall as the stories
in this house of mirrors
the lie is reflected
back and forth
a perpetually adjusted tie
