Category: Poetry

…the men who survived the failure of media 

and when he told me to step back to see the wider view to look for any people that I knew to see what they were doing I saw one yelling at another

Let the mist stir your blood from this percussion. Time so finite, brilliance so fleeting.

Scott, another chosen priest of discovery, Royal Navy, but no planner; counting the nuts and bolts, the ponies and motors to plan was not his way and he paid the price, descending south to his doom.

I was born into a small case delicate shoulders, soft face I'm a house mouse living on, by trickery I guess I got away I tell myself I'm lucky