Sunday, November 6, 2016


I live in a hot-water bottle
surrounded by waves
surrounded by leaves
surrounded by thieves.

It is like time has stopped
between the Golden Ages
and the Dark Times.

The variegation
cannot erase the suffocation
the breath
the soul
can only see the vapid land
& blues.

The heat
the dampness of the place.
The beating
of the chants.
Drums are on every night.
Dogs bark.
Cats mew
& converge towards where
food or peace are.

I live in a bottle
firmly sealed
full of salt
and dust
rotting inside
& outside.

I live on a boat floating to nowhere
water everywhere
wherever where is.

First published in Ygdrasil, March 2011. Extract from Maore Lapwing Publishing, 2013