flat.fish.flesh

Echoes of those distant paths,
which wish has washed away,
have cast their final sunset nets
and caught one word today.

When all the fanfare falters
and drum’s begun to slow,
the heady light keeps falling.
It dims and turns to go.

Forget about today’s tendrils
as you salute the sun.
Lift up your head. Throw back your hair.
Ignore the stuff undone.

The quality of life is such.
One day is but a mark
smudged out on every gate and tree
as light descends to dark.

Then run a tongue round word again.
Impress its pressing din.
Dip deep into the old worn world
its contents to take in.

And practice well the noise to bark
as time to voice it grows.
Raise up a song to utterance.
Why then you can let go.

That last year was my last year as
innocent death virgin.
Unpenetrated by the loss.
Unstuck by deep dark pin.

This public house stands testament
to a sweet time ago
and it’s still close, a corner bar
to my old man and ghost.

My first love was a first love,
a one that does not die
but keeps on coming back to me
along, along the line.

Each street in town is friend of mine.
I’ve known them all this long
and memory is buried deep
in bricks and walls and song.