December Collage Poem: Waves
Swansea waves words at passing poets
The twenty-fifth day is long and in others souls,
A week later we enter the next chapter with
New raging goals.
Kissing capitalism's ass and not mine
Highway traffic moves in waves,
Or should that be it crawls like a crab
Marrying a woman from East Texas
She cooked Christmas pudding for dinner each night
In peanut and rum sauce
Pattern language, shackled light
Chegwin as Fleance weeps.
Christmas is a great time for contemplating death.
We knife our words, our children, and steal away saints.
The sea chants in its wake
In a drunken haze I walked
Through my pool of sick
A pumpkin orange sunset signals
Salvation, oblivion, eternal rest
Sod the pudding;
Pass the brandy!
If I say your name three times...
Will you think of me.