Monday, April 22, 2013

22. Beyond the beyond

Beyond the beyond,
framed in the broken window,
heavy with cloud
the sea tolls its melancholy
being neither sleeping in calm
or rampant with aggressive storm.  
This is a grey day, vibrant sunlight
warming only the backs of clustered cloud.
Bram Stoker sauntered here,
bringing his ship of nightmare
into the harbour in the howl of night. 
Today there are no shadows
walking across the grasses
or playing hide and seek
in the crumbled masonry;
the peaks and troughs of light
are homogenised,
as if
the sun
has writer’s block 
or maybe, drained of passion,
it is undead.

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