variations on the theme of pigeons
grey day
a flock of pigeons
leaves the church roof
grey day
a flock of pigeons
returns to the church roof
grey day
a sudden flock of pigeons
left the church roof and
returned
returned
returning a flock of pigeons returned
leaving a flock of pigeons left
grey day
a sudden flock of pigeons
feathers her hair
stuff and no nonsense
let’s rename poetry
let’s call it ‘stuff’
let’s write stuff
let’s let people no longer
analyse it into ubiquity
let’s let it move us
to say
don’t let it stop
doing it’s stuff to us
let’s forget the word poetry
stuff it i say
sun you are a star
the star became a red giant
the poet a dwarf star
a binary pair
they spun many a yarn
across the sky
darkly brightly
daily nightly
they knit many a brow
telescoped many a punch
until the supernova
exploded onto the scene
then the iron became a nib
carbon the inky night sky
and the book ended
noting that something isn’t
why has life got to be
for something
why cannot life be for
nothing
more than a
temporary existence between
two nothings
or a virtual vacuum
inside nothing
i am therefore
i soon will be not
but sometimes i laugh
at the absurdity of it all
noting that
nothing more to be said
is quite something
a picture of a morning coast
nature’s coast of many colours
of many layers
thought’s eye wanders
comes home then wanders
like a border collie
rounding up sighs
that slip the breeze
rustle down the grass
soar in the slow clouds
lay down in the pull waves
a snow-angel thought comes
and raises the widest smile
a homily of home
indeed it is
too true to believe
all the belief systems
over all the eons
none have worked
not one deity has answered
not even to confirm that
we are a lost cause
even before we are born
the odds are stacked
the algorithms are insensate
there is nothing
and that does not answer back
even nothing isn’t it
is it
