Author Information
I Hear The Thunder Crashing
Folder:
Unpublished pieces
Patterns, aching, destruction.
Quietness hurting with intensity.
I wander in a daze, capturing the
meandering phallic symbols of my going
and coming
and seeking
something.
It is a restless drone that precedes every other
imagination.
Clock is ticking,
Somebody is waiting to die.
Jumping shallow in a pool deeply toned
and thinking that the first thing
I shall have to do is to cut your hair
until you whimper.
Anger, rejection, reflection.
Pools of bombs exploding in a shallow zone.
Wandering pick-pockets hurtling their defence.
I grab a tire and it rolls me,
rolls me,
over the druid passages of underwater lights
I hear the thunder crashing,
crashing and it's smashing
the deodorant of the metaphor.
