I.
blessed is
the lord our god,
king of nocturne seas
that choke themselves
with the quick and dead

god
will not sing to me;
i am but a hollowed bird
lifting my beak's
unpractised spoon
to sip his silence

II.
i know why
god's stomach knots
to the arctic curl of flowers

it is the ache & clasp
of shoreless waters
that scourge themselves
in tides
and remember
god no longer counts
their lashes gleaming
like rubies
in inept blushes
of sun-blood

see, see where
christ's blood
seeps, complacent, in
the errant sky! it shakes my
heart to capsized towers,
peaked hills grinning
in casts of earth

and christ sprawls
with babylon's whore,
gulping it like wine.

III.
it is time.

the heavens
should not stand so still
in the hour of parched sun
and languid moon's rising,
but vomit my sentence
like the unwell rivers to
fat streams, the sea
to her pockets

hurry god hurry
if you would have me.
already
the sky has loosed
its bounds to other birds.
i am forgotten, an anchor
in gardens of sneering teeth,

a perch
for eager worms.

30/6/08.