I know we're still in the honeymoon phase, but summer I think you might be the one.

Finally, a chance to put in some serious time on an ms I'm working on. I don't want to say too much about it, I'm superstitious that way, but this is the first poem in the ms (at least for now):

Lowering

Leaving hour, how quick

it came. The train echoed

across the valley, over Tickfaw Creek,

trembled the ryegrass at the edge

of town, then further

still, beyond Black Mountain

clear to strange weather.

Now, six days from land

the compass has gone out of me.

These cursed waves thrash

like thieves, and what a mockery

of song the wind is making. Dearest,

the sea is another tongue

for loss, for misery, for coffin.

For grief: the rusty hinge of it,

the knife stab sudden of it.

(Thanks to Anti- for publishing this poem here: http://anti-poetry.com/anti/painepa/ )


I'm also putting the final touches on Diode 4.3  It's a good'un.

http://diodepoetry.com/