I am losing my hair Oh yes I can feel the breeze My fingers slide On exposed scalp Hair’s still there But sparse like kelp It used to define me My follicular identity Curly! Tangles! Jewfro! No need to eat my crusts For cascading blond ringlets But thick goes fast The plughole clogs What am I anymore? A slapping stone A crown of bone Wispy … Continue reading MPB by Martin Parsons
Stony-eyed meets beady eyes and match, latch upon, as masses move on. An undying champion: Set. Game. Won. In surveillance, unblinded by sun. Done. For that dreamless state is become stateless dream, then dream of state, slate wiped clean. One. Staunch with practicality, perched, its practically eternal praxis That rain makes good – – flying buttresses! – – Sitting, spitting… While flitting Round and round … Continue reading Gargoyle by Martin Parsons
