Anecdotes of a cave dweller

The rock stone woman
Stood out of the boulder
Half finished

The moon hone
With its ice cube white light

What had happened?
The lighthouse
Has had its lamp
Disconnected

The waves
Crash onto the shore

Further more

Thick people appear
In my imagination

Sadly
Thick people
Are out of fashion
Or I would fill the page with them

How have I managed?
To amass such a large
Collection
Of tools

From a simple yellow screwdriver
Some bicycle spanners
And a craft knife
I now have
Two big
Menacing toolboxes

I should take them to the riverside
And leave them
In the foaming tide

Where they would
Set to work
Nailing the river current
To the river bed
Sawing up the waves
Into 2 by 1
And nailing driftwood
To the beard of the sun

The enemy storm clouds
Scurried down behind the wall
The bricklayers lay dead

I have no pleasure
In your music
Only hurt

That the murdered soul
Lies in a pool of blood
Wobbly fat
And butchered meat
In the doorway

You see
There’s nothing
To be afraid of
My memories are like
Slugs and spider
That you can
Easily crush