Saturday, May 26, 2012

There are less treacherous landscapes

There are less treacherous landscapes
to follow until
the place you finally stop has only a makeshift comfort, a lean-to of rock and plank
And a filthy cloth drape,  shedding mites into the sand

No fire tonight. Staring at the empty ring
Without crackle, or light.

Things that drift now scud -
Scud wood under scudding clouds;
Thoughts scud back and away
Catching the scud of a tide
Or a joke
Until scud is the ugliest word you can think of to use
Over,
and over again