15 December 2016

Incommunicado



Don’t seem to be making headway with this malaise, 
if that’s what it is - despondency comes easy despite 
being prepared for it; in past days I’d a way, & not as 
much a remedy for melancholy as just getting going
you know, cranking the engine and revving it - these 
days I try and write a poem, keep it simplistic, focus, 
dig gently into the mess - uncover what it is stressed 
out & apparently irrevocably incommunicado about

That it usually fails clinical tests of relevance doesn’t 
best the patience necessary to properly investigate - 
but then the penny drops, & gates swing open again, 
and there’s th’ culprit making smarmy faces sitting in 
a deck chair the old way, beefing about things which 
might have been - were it facing in another direction 
© 2 August 2016, I. D. Carswell