A short poem

'The Boy that Cried Fire'

Adrift in an embrace
masking tear-stained face,
he mourns with pearls of ember.

Lamenting the love he can't replace,
he seeks a solitary space,
for the heart is a lonely hunter.

28th July 2005, 18:30 from Paddington to Reading

I may extend it - 'Da Bomb' thinks I should, and she's usually right about these things. It's a poem based on a feeling long since past, and to extend it successfully, I would have to be enveloped by the same shade of indigo, which I no longer am. We'll see.

Listening to: Ella Fitzgerald 'Mack the Knife' (the legendary 1960 Berlin performance where she forgot the words to Kurt Weill's classic song and improvised).

Thinking about: cks & a, as well as section 44 of the Terrorism Act (thanks to the folks at Tabard Street).

Doing: not a lot, but I think i'll haul ass and write some stuff.