I think I'll populate this land
with menacing creatures,
others making mistakes,
vital dramas.
Perhaps there'll be a happy end.

A hidden corner's shadowy cast,
a trapped reliquary,
unfashionables crafted in the past,
pending rebirth.

Banished by media teacher gurus,
punished for flouting current taste lore,
distressed, wasted, awaiting expert pleasure.

It's just long wave light, airborne
dust. But even long wave makes me
shudder - emotional partings
'Brief Encounter'
Sign of age.

Buck up. There may be bad weather,
but if I hadn't seen it, would that
still apply? Pretend it didn't
happen - illusion - bloodshot eyes.

He said, 'Give me an hour or two.
There's a cafe round the corner.'

Friendly faces.
Instant coffee - black, no sugar.
Just sit and wait.
Or can I write.

Pen and paper cheap enough.
They don't sell inspiration.

Traffic rattling past.
Radio no help.

Thinking.
Time lost.
Time spent.
Time up at last.

He's gone - dead,
memory redefined.
What feelings will survive?
Who will remember?

Formal, frozen inexpressive
faces - relatives and friends,
people I've not seen for years.
Shuffling funeral shoes,
nervous, rehearsing things to say.

Others never seen before,
his networks seem intact,
mine now declined. Perhaps
I don't know he who goes there.
Pass friend.

Woken. Rain agaain.
What did I dream -
hero or sinner,
watcher or actor?

When my mind
colludes with the day
memories corrupt.

No others passing near,
deep breaths feed well-being,
freedom to think, to dream,
anarchuc senses in control.

Listening for the least,
making the most, smelling the green,
tasting the earth, watching the shadows
innocently exercise.

The short beat of an instant.
Reluctantlymoving on.