Building on Sand 7-9 /9

“Though lovers be lost, love shall not;
and Death shall have no Dominion.”
Dylan Thomas

Building on Sand
7, 8, & 9 /9


Tight lips.
A blaze of anger.
A challenge spat
in the wind’s face.

the rabbit’s grief
in its silver snare.

The midnight moon
deep in a trance.

If only I could kick away
this death’s head,
this sow’s bladder.

Full moon
high in a cloudless sky.


After heavy rain
the house shrinks.
Its mandibles close.

 A crocodile peace
descends from the jaws of heaven.

I no longer fit my skin.
Iguana spots itch.
Walls encircle me,
hemming me in.

 The I Ching sloughs my name:
each lottery ticket,
a bullet.

 None with my number.


Late last night I thought
I had grasped the mystery:
but when I awoke
I clasped only shadows and sand.



10 thoughts on “Building on Sand 7-9 /9

    • “Come, fill the Cup, and in the fire of Spring
      Your Winter-garment of Repentance fling:
      The Bird of Time has but a little way
      To flutter–and the Bird is on the Wing.”

      Just googled it so I could read it again, John!


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