(during Katrina) 1. Hampstead Heath new coots slice the water. I am thirsty. my throat believes hope is a quivering stag at the edge of glade near a bottomless wishing well too deep to reflect my face. knowing coins are not God's messengers, I throw 1 fat quid down the maw. I'm not getting something crucial about this antlered sunrise. 2. London Aquarium carve the water. I want the truth split open. how do I know these creatures - with their always moving mouths & twitching bodies - do not also helplessly rage this caliginous artificial deep? 3. Bom Jesus, Portugal in misty fountain spray today, I will drink vinho verde; observe fat carp making themselves dizzy for tourists with fists of biscuits. a seething golden school slashing the surface. we throw bread when it amuses us, like God.
Raven memory of flesh heaving to my beak's yanks and gashes. wide calculated wings once circled a predictable festival of gore, entrails. black. clipped. patient. deliberate. men kill. ravens fall. men rise. we drop. snatch an ascent coloured crimson. mud dark against turquoise sky. skimming the end of empires. NOTE: When the ravens leave the Tower Of London - according to legend - the White Tower, the Monarchy & England will fall. They have been treated exceptionally well for over 300 years. Their wings are clipped.
Abney Park Cemetery haphazard clusters. graves rubbed clean of words, looping celtic cross knots split in one hundred shards of shattered memory. shiny fresh tombstones recently flowered. five elders clutch a tattered map plod through brambles. hold branches open like doors. search for old mates. a kestrel snatches birdsong. daisies push up from broken sarcophagus, everyone here is laughing.