Good Cheese Dishes.

First comes one then

There are two,

More ultimately will find their way in.

Flung centrifugal against Time; marked by hailstones like golf balls crashing through pine forest fronds herald an encomium that calls the beaten to name.

Island of cargo containers rearranges itself according to weather conditions daily, coming in and out of view; shimmering as it melts over the axis edge. Stopping to hold a conch to the ear; on breathing out a spray of cabbage whites. Flush with pockets bare and sockets sucked where eyes once were. We are worth a fortune.

Away from the waspish lagoon we simmer inland. There is turbulence in the heart of this exotic and bewildering air space; travelling around as if permanently looking out from within at people existing elsewhere. The shingle rolls in folded tributaries to meet the sea. Crystal placid memory haze. In silhouette there you are, collecting shells.

Footprints crunch to flint lined ossuary; a pine dampened furze fizzled burnt out thoughts. 

Carpet of pine cones soiled tissues litter; a seedy furtive musk metres from the roadside; always in shade.

Void. Still. Nothing.   

Sink in suiceaside, disappear or collapse into the earth up to our necks. 

A curved arc of dorsal muscle cuts through perfectly rounding the swell; then disappears off again. 

Harrier hovers, flight line insight to radar station gold teeth clenched, graffiti “Go Home!”