The sea is at one with the sky, they agree
with me, the earth's grown tired.
The road is too long
Look ma, no hands
The rain is too big
Look ma, no hands
The wind is too strong
Look ma
She suffers a surfeit of history, where
there is no vacancy, no relief.
The shore is too weak
Look ma, no hands
The sky is too small
Look ma, no hands
The view is too bleak
Look ma
The earth's at the bottom of her dream.
Grant her asylum from herself.
.
- This poem has just been published here, along with a couple of others. For some reason the publisher has added the editorial note I wrote when I submitted them. See what you prefer; left-justified or centre-justified. (The italics seem the more important difference in this one, to be honest). Whatever, have a look around, there's some really good poetry on the site.