In the night, when I awake
the street lamp patterns
leaf shadows on the blinds,
ancient music in my ears.
This is growing old:
in my left ear three notes
played on a piano accordion,
stuck on repeat, plenty of sustain.
The right carries the sound of the sea.
The poem is tighter, more economical.
the water cycle
on his drawing the rain fell up
he did not give a fuck
for the teacher’s laboured explanation
or his laborious chalked illustration
he simply had a need to see
the world as a place where water could soar skywards
I know I ramble on about the importance of getting constructive feedback but it is really useful. Thank you Secrets.