flatline poem
october 08



here, now
in this aftershadow where
tomorrow hangs woven by the spider's careless web
rushing up black out of november consuming
all life all flame
breathing death carving iron gothic yesterday

and

i know i shall not be angry
nor shall i aspire to or reach
the nobility of the forgiver







one space.
three minute power
cut run shellfish shell comb scouring

indestructible plastic which disguises woodworm spawns eating my soul while i slake their incidental thirst




flowing red ruthless, inescapable commonplaces paving

dead sun sunset poster kitsch word demon absence end death succintly underlined

with the non-being all-loss of bleak faded colour-coded afterlife