It is quiet today,
The train empties out its soul,
Silence is barely pinched
By the funfair.

Gulls form random complications,
A single pattern,
Suspended as an object
And we leave like the first time

Out of a cinema.

Action Against Awe

With one big hand
I grasped the twinkling aeroplanes
From the stars.

They blinked at me,
Scrunching them up like paper balls,
I put them into my smaller hand.

There should never be too many lights in the sky.

It is inappropriate. 

The Crow

Is it all you wanted?
A spattering of snow
Against the cold ground.

Were you happy how you ended?
Any deeper
No-one would know you were there.

Do your black iced wings remember white morning skies?
The changing moon,
The yo-yoing sun.

Now a breathless puppet,
Once a vessel for air,
Reduced to a kick-thing for the inquisitive child.

Outside the playground.

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