Poetry is what I do.

It slumps in the armchair of my mind
Attracting with repellent awfulness


Dry papped stones
The sluttish rutted sea
All flesh scales and skin
Processed, devoured in the gapping maws
Of animal feed from Justification 2006


Respite from the world of sensory loss

was found on the shore,

where the land and sky met in the watery waste

from Eco-nomics