in even avenues of love

(this takes only a moment
but gives you increased capabilities)

if the grain is kept straight
.............................and held so
with conviction and compass
then the mere will allow
that across to the felds a wife
....................or what or wifwhat
eek from afar as though even song
through water................was sprung
imagine more then than a water wife

who bounds o'er dark floods
her entire head now bubbled & hove to
the variance of a new North

upholded there in such sea hills
staymates and thwarts

(press this button once only)

the attack the attack
..............................least of all
in the smallest things O some new chaos

.......................rupt the night
in which we look
Oh therein his earnest helm and heck

as though there were no none of it
ugh yes no nonce of the word of it
....................................no eating of it
"no longer any mouth to put it in"

pshaw! now nothing is to be done

07762 888118
anyone with the answer
please call before morning

.

Lights fall from the Old Man of the Sea (a wrestling poem for Rus Bowden)

we hold until I am exhausted

he is a trickling thing of sand
a scintilla that drains back into the beach

a shock of trees
released by strong winds
he is a fish, a slither
an eel that flits away
then has me pinned

he is all around me
he clenches, shoves my face
towards his
buried down there
beneath our grinding feet
iron-eyed our faces

stare it out underground
through lock and tremor
we are two seismic prayers
to a god divided

he is a lion he is my mother he is the flicker of songbirds falling
as black snow in early evening my fingers are wings are poems
within his smoke we fold back to embrace
count five sudden things of magic
stamp and hold tight

lion mother phantom
my lost brother
whistles hard in the waves

old father in the fallen leaves offshore

we walk into the sea
each carrying the other
light as children who cannot return
rise only as the tide
sends up her drowned lanterns

each with his heart of red sand
catching, holding

our breath beyond reach

.

BIRTH PROSPECTUS.
THE END OF US.
A free E-book By Peter Riley.
Click here to download

for everyone's little brother who died too young: