Meeting the SeaWe are going to meet the sea(Any minute now)The river is preparing for itRobing itself in white sailclothStubbing out its cigaretteIn the ashtray mounted uponThe wallThe river advancesInto the mouthLike the barrel of a gunIt turns, it gives a waveAnd the sea,Salt-thirstyDrinks it whole
ConcreteThe child looked confused:“Wouldn’t it sound better,If you made it out of words?”She asked, plaintively
Fantasy Homes
This land is
your land
You have
made it
Named it and
mapped it
Walked it
and driven it
You have
driven up the land
And you have
let in the sea
This land is
my land
It is the
atlas of my soul
I have
recorded it and analysed it
Celebrated
it and eulogised it
I have woven
it into dreams
And I have
dreamed it into life
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