northern lights

northern lights


(or lack thereof)




there’s ash in the porridge again

cold black rain
in a cold black room

unravel your rosary beads

tick tock
tricks my heart

the sheep know
when it’s time

a thin red line
on the horizon

and inside my porridge

a cold ulcerated sheep’s eye

stares back





they are sick of chewing ash
i can see it
in small tumorous eyes
black and cold like rosary beads

i am sorry
that i brought them here

for i knew it would return

black drool and burned days
blood on all the doors

come, sweet lamb

let me take you home




the Quiet

the Quiet left bruises today

too many to sleep

sometimes i feel i will pull off my own flesh
from Quiet alone

i suppose birds are gone now
songs swelled by ash


and this ash

it comes by conveyor belt now




dual carriageway

too many little white crosses

squeezed by cold dirt
blackening like the air

a reminder for Those in Charge
to create a dual carriageway

but there is no one in charge

i’m not sure there ever was




the sublime

six men and a cow fall into the water
the six men drown
the cow survives
it is the only one who knows to swim




survivor’s advice

sometimes drowning can be a form of self-preservation

it is true! think:

if you fall in and are rescued
but the water is too cold
and the boat too far from shore

you will surely freeze to death

in situations like these it is best to let oneself drown





there are no ambulances coming
stoicism will have to do!

if you wait long enough
the ash will make you warm

a dark womb

where all our failings meet




i make peace with the Quiet









a new world

it has all stopped



for how long no one knows

i see a horse
black fur coated in black rain
trotting through ash

and a swan
dancing in a sulphur field




new year’s

colors drip down chins
in this new dark

pockets of Quiet
(watch them)



i am told some hate fireworks
because the ash gets in their lungs

so i smile wide


and breathe deep

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