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Nov 2014
I
Little bear

My Red Indian girl
approaches with
Sun waves behind her.
Rays broken on
wheat sheaf, brown
pollen flies, dither,
vulture on cut poppy heads.

Hands gently brush
bull rush, torches
of an ancient fire
That burns, that burns
the curling hearts of ferns.

‘I want to meet you there
My love,
Who stares
at the sky
like a
Sun flower.'


II

Scorched earth

The holy fire
that licks from your
Irish mouth. The
Catholic words,
that spill from your
holy spirit.
Hang in the air
like ragged linen
on a ***** child.

‘My empty boy,
Let me slip my hands
Under your gas mask
And kiss the chlorine from your mouth,’


III

We are the Sun Warriors

when we're together.

strung out,
drugged up,
lovers of light,
lovers of the summer
Drought and bubble mud.

‘I want, I want
our stitched up hearts.
And when we’re gone, please let us lie
In a heathen space
and find our heaven in the sky.’


IV

The Sun

That ****** spot,
Blinks.
Gods eye though
screamed at
gives no reply.    

That ****** spot
blinks
in a empty sky
I opened my heart to god
and heard you reply.
Joe Bradley
Written by
Joe Bradley  Manchester/London
(Manchester/London)   
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