You’re the one who started this by leaving,
roaring drunk,
you, and your corona, and your
funky spunky junk.
from the poem ‘corona’, #712 v:9
included in the next book, ‘echoes in the void’.
I took the sad machine to bits,
and sold it for its parts,
it’s bad enough we’re sober
in this time of broken hearts.
from ‘the cadence of our years’, #719 v:7 From ‘echoes in the void’.
I cure my dull afflictions with
a little sip of bleach,
it numbs my dumb befuddled tongue,
and liberates my speech.
the dragon-slayer #724 v:14 for the book ‘echoes in the void’.
You sneezed a grim ejecta from
your heavy lungs, and coughed,
you smeared your face with soot and ash,
your banner, held aloft.
‘the house of luminosity’ #729 v:5 from the book ‘echoes in the void’.
Viruses replicate ten times a minute,
two become four, become eight,
I sickened on Sunday, and died on the Monday,
it must have been something I ate.
from the poem ‘into the limitless void’, #735 v:18 June 2020@
Bones shake a fever to fight the infection,
I shook for a day and a half,
what started as some kind of visceral howl,
unbridled a baffling laugh.
from the poem ‘into the limitless void’, #735 v:19 June 2020@
mirror/mirror
Blowing through the barren trees,
a dire wind of sighs,
a rage of bones,
a rage of bones,
a rage of bones to rise.
jo forrest 2020@ from the poem mirror/mirror
#738 v:43