On this beach, I wish to see the end of time

I often write to capture moments that I have experienced in solitude. Consider for example the afternoon that produced this poem, “On a rock amongst rocks“. I had walked out beyond the beach of white sand to the rocky inlet beyond the seafront houses, the fishermen and the dog owners. Each day I used this landmark as the half-way point measure

Nearing the End

The second-to-last exertion is not the rainbow. It is the to-and-fro flight of a raven clamped in darkness for 150 days. Let there be beats the raven’s wings Let there be beats the raven’s hope No land, raven. No release. Below yap choppy waves, corpses float and catch on broken trees. No release, raven. No

A 1,000 RAINBOWS, ROCKS AND PROCESS

On a rock amongst rocks When the last rays fire after which all will be still and ashed Here, on this rock I wish to stand to see the end of time. From here you face due South; face the end of the world, but between you and then blue-grey barrels roll toward the shore