the annoying thing is

 the annoying thing is

when we are gone we are gone

and the people who remember us

will soon be gone

and anon

will go on and on and on

which is so annoying 

as you surely will agree

 as you surely will agree

and so now does the evening sun

breeze the cat in settling low

grassed the warmth that even now

wages in sips of lemonade and that

hat that drapes my closing eyes

i settle back the seat repose

pushing the balm of just a snooze

whose daisy daisy’s do’s 

conduct the distant dog

the honey aphids from the trees

falling harmless in the buzzing of

the honeyest mooching bees

tiptoe the windfalls

comes the cat

totally at one with me

that this one of our better days

as you surely will agree

malarkey

 malarkey 

the lark tinkling the keys

you cannot locate

far above the heather

in just blue skies

it rises 

the question

why 

in this great blue sky

do you ever fall to earth 

song-less in running 

to your feathered nest

in the vast lake of

the shivery shakes

on the skin of a boy

born under this blue sky

with his forever questioning

why

ekphrasis for a poem

 ekphrasis for a poem

paddling into this pool I 

felt the cool around my feet

when I came out the sea salt dried to a sparkling

so I went back in to wash it off

but unless I stayed in it recrystallised 

sorry did it say   not

sorrow I said

dried like this

it is joy

the palatinate of childhood

 the palatinate of childhood 

the palatinate of childhood 

the players

where did you fit in

fitted in

unthought 

how the sculptor of time

and again rough edges

elbow jostled

into the grassed knees

the bloody grazes

the bandaged mothers

while all along the man

was growing in the boy

who ran the bridges 

and jumped the streams

without biting his tongue once

all those days now just

an invisible splinter 

under the nails of a clause

in the contract with youth

hold on

the wheel is turning

take your seat

trust me

 trust me 

but they don’t ask do they 

they ask others to interrogate you

they take their word for it 

they they they

could have asked

if indignation is was

their fault all along

the earthquake 

that ensued

is predictable

well I ask you

one breath

one breath

another breath

the space between lengthens

stops 

starts

Cheyne-Stokes

they call it

you can call it out

when it stops

then tears start

explosive

then chugging like an old car

garaged 

until next summer

time you see

they say time will 

well

we’ll see

we’ll see