It was handed to me
from a swift passersby;
an occular occlusion,
a kaleidoscope, a bug’s eye view in etheric blue;
An image of ghastly beauty,
a resurrection song.
As the kaleidoscope spun the dervish shapes began to dance,
but you
in television-ghost white hue were immutable
in the mists billowing around me.
You stood in the centre of the whorling white fog.
Empty, sad, lost eyes locked on mine.
I’ve missed you to the sharp point
of insanity at the edge of a razor blade.
YOU ARE READING
Confusion in Underground Clouds
PoetryThis is a collection of assorted poems, detailing one consciousness extending and swirling into another, and another, and another.
