The cannons of the storm ring out

Rain
A blue bullet and an upside down ‘i’
“Touch here to start”

The germ of an idea, coughed into cupped hands
Splutters
Drawn out in the sand
As long as a piece of string
Strung out, along a lifeline
Or two

In inexorable decline
Drip, drip, drip, splash!

There’s a hole in heaven’s bucket
List
A keening siren call in my ear (raise a finger)
And the sweaty waft of vinegar
An odour as homeless as the feet giving it

The only guide to man is his conscience

Open the sluice gates

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: