The Rocks of Druridge Bay

The cliff moves
as clouds of Neptune depart, above me
and a man’s hand floats amidst the seas below
crashing in black milks of tinder & thunder
as villages of fire-flies glow behind me
thrown by the discuss of our dance, across the night’s tattoos
across the sea’s ribcage smiles
where we head to name each other’s lightening
and each other’s musk pierces the early mist
awesome in its war gripping the moon
across the calm berating stars, which let the owls grow
let the lilac black times whiskey a thousand grow
into red halves of Pluto, into novae men, phoenix women
the cello’s street
sings the cello’s hum
how sullenness was never born & never comatose tonight
banks of aeons weave their endless silk, shattering the rain
the red wine rocks, the
sculptor’s babbling hands changing
into bones of flowing pain in the wind!
the gulls mating wings: scream beyond sight
never taming their work, or mixing the road
for the Apollo’s of day jobs
smacking with Dionysus’ dance, as
some are too insane
but most are too graceful
to murder the silence.


is Raoul Moat in a boat. His first words were ‘Newky Brown’. As well as being our most prolific writer, René also creates graphic art, paintings and screenplays.

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