Wild Offerings
Torn from the sky we clipped your wings to buy safe passage; broken bodies lovingly preserved with a tenderness denied in flight. We stole shadows
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Torn from the sky we clipped your wings to buy safe passage; broken bodies lovingly preserved with a tenderness denied in flight. We stole shadows
Struggling beneath the weight of accumulation you buckle in the rains; a surplus of backwash baptising you with the filthy discharge of a thousand vanquished
Breaking free from sandy beds you race towards the water’s edge; lunar compass perfectly attuned to the faintest glimmer of starry nights, and the worlds
These ancient frozen soils supress secluded secrets, our speculative stratigraphy too coarse to expose the folly of your foundation; panning for timelines that slip through
Beneath empty plaques and unmarked plots, the misplaced dead lie resting. The blankness of their generic monuments a simple sleight of hand: these fragmented piles
The crest above the grassy plains dominates the outlook; its raw-boned peaks threatening to pierce the very fabric of the sky, as beneath its jutting
Not all heat is made equal. Between streets stained red with the indelible ink of discrimination, the clammy embrace of federal excess can still
After the accident the forest returned, blanketing forsaken machinery in a gentle, unfamiliar embrace. Stacks of contaminated televisions lie in heaps, repurposed as shelters for
Floating between distant horizons, you dance upon a fraying thread; turning somersaults as butterflies threaten to break free from the fragile anchor beneath your flailing
Clamours of circuits compete to complete composite puzzles that compound their complexity. Assuring the security of their concealed networks as they pan for digital gold;