We are lions in cages.
Extroverts anonymous. Facades of hopeful futures.
We        think        differently
Because we are so special
The ball and chain around her ankle is a ten pound book-bag
Portable computer. Portable phone.
Internet. Music. Silence.
Internet. Music. Silence.
Who whips the lions?
The kings and the queens of the jungle.
Are ******.

You will not tame this sea
either by humility or rapture.
But you can laugh
in its face.

Laughter
was invented by those
who live briefly
as a burst of laughter.

The eternal sea
will never learn to laugh.

Three weeks gone and the combatants gone
returning over the nightmare ground
we found the place again, and found
the soldier sprawling in the sun.

The frowning barrel of his gun
overshadowing. As we came on
that day, he hit my tank with one
like the entry of a demon.

Look. Here in the gunpit spoil
the dishonoured picture of his girl
who has put: Steffi. Vergissmeinnicht.
in a copybook gothic script.

We see him almost with content,
abased, and seeming to have paid
and mocked at by his own equipment
that's hard and good when he's decayed.

But she would weep to see today
how on his skin the swart flies move;
the dust upon the paper eye
and the burst stomach like a cave.

For here the lover and killer are mingled
who had one body and one heart.
And death who had the soldier singled
has done the lover mortal hurt.

"Munro, one day you're gonna hate the world"



For a reason you never told me, you always called me by my last name.
Maybe you were avoiding the same name of the girl before me
(who loved and was never loved back)
And saying it made the truth so much more real.
You're a murderer.



"And it'll all be because of me."

Perhaps it is the phenomenon
of being constantly,
perfectly out of reach that
keeps me going in the mornings
when there is no glow,
& the comfort of living within
my alotted skin has vanished.

Perhaps it is the season,
these months of leaves
cascading,
that guides me,
gently,
down.