Something heavy between the blackberry and the funnel web

cracked out of the sun’s heel 

feeds the hornet’s whisper of death

bat rites trick in the dusk 

more diary poems 

semaphore wind chimes echo nuclear locations.

 

You and I grow old like tea and whisky

we follow the secret pathogens littering the sailor’s path

smiles unfold in a horror-scope of favourites closed up against

each new direct debit obligation.