A Loss
Our reaction tells us
what is not
What is the what which
is that which is dropped
We map a route over and
around these temporary permanencies
Which is the thing that
is that which is stopped
Holding tight onto the
lines that trace the relief of exile and embrace,
Firewall across temple
entrance blocked
Settlement and
disruption; and no messiah to shift the boulders, just bulldozers
Of detail, these
streets of family, feud and fealty, wear their experience
While these plains of
false refuge shimmer with the delirium
The roamers line toward
the sunrise, gung ho gun toters riding
Whilst the wrapped
shepherds appear still moving, in this reality they are redlighted,
past their event horizon
History spirals,
collapsing timings, closing on itself,
Cities of the Night
emerge from dream into text into flesh on sand building brick on
brick, until the architects are in the red
The balance sheet asks,
and paper tells
Dry as the sides of
these vacant wells
And there is no carpet
to sweep it under
Save the sky that
covers all
No necessity
Just desert floor,
steel boots, fatigues and weaponry
