Purblinded by a large tropical hate
guided by a chain-light of sorrow
lamp-headed poets and writers
whisk away their childhood
in the garden of quilted thoughts
Commiserate with their resident ineptitude
A self-confessed blamelessness
Grounding -
the ability to float
I have laid amongst these
Plants house-earthed
and my sorrow itself stands shaken
matted against an empty sensitivity
Frozen on the upside of the moon-shivers
Sinking in this slough
in a subterfuge
Everything shines against the stark
Heterodox: the long wait to silence.