From my poetry blog.
The young and the well hung quartered and drawn striding through chapters toothless raptors wireless adaptors aborted newborn The herd and the blackbird song feathered dawn erasing through channels annulled annals amphibious mammals bucketed spawn
From my poetry blog
Spider Webs A paucity of lines to begin with, held by examples of faith unattached to a creed, forming into white, frosted webs, rising to be a tangle of sky, prone to bead on dew-dusted mornings, each tremulous strand born of hunger and longing. ©AndrewJamesMurray
Crows A disheartening of crows gathered in winter fields. Naked trees from disused rail road tracks, dark stains on white linen. In trust we are led through this stark terrain, senses soaked in sparse liquor, a hungry air tasting our flesh, a murmuring of hardened, thirsting soil. They rise, wheeling, across the sky, black flecks of mortality in widening whites of eyes. ©AndrewJamesMurray
From my poetry blog.
weevil home flour and bone migrating north country roads old black dog on the final run burning up a paper sun ©AndrewJamesMurray
From my poetry blog
Raw Mojo The bleak, blushes of dusk. A Highland wind licks at a heart, wrapped in leaves. Buried beneath a pine cone, needles. Drink 'til I can drink no more; just watch the dead impose in plagues. A girl, dark, unfamiliar, dares to draw the focus of these phantom scarred eyes, blood rushing in her alluring anonymity. A taste of ash, I eat my father. I am an amalgamation of anecdote and mannerism. Assimilated slow and left to boil. Magisterial day. Insouciant night. Sin suggests an arbitrator. I need a new translation, from the prophet's native tongue. ©AndrewJamesMurray
From my poetry blog.
Dog Days pockets of dereliction the dog days of July hanks of grass and shaggy-maned stalks who can deny the sapping sun at its highest point lording over our genuflecting straw gods in the square in the shade of a spreading elm the fatigue of noon-day workers ©AndrewJamesMurray
From my poetry blog.
Ocean With an ardent longing, sending her mating call over corpulent dune to my sand-sprinkled raptures, wildly adoring her untameable passion but knowing my place; walking these ravaged islands, carrying the frantic coupling in my bedchamber, alone, tasting the salty spume still, her lingering kisses an invitation to slip beneath her surface, sighing. ©AndrewJamesMurray
