Dog Days

From my poetry blog.

Coronets For Ghosts

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

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Midnight, July

From my poetry blog.

Coronets For Ghosts

Midnight, July

We writhe
with a rage to know
the unknowable,

blind to great masses
that dance in dark orbits.
And a soft, summer wind
on a night beneath stars
is no balm.

From somewhere a whistle 
casts a line,

a fragile camaraderie 
in a world
fell silent,

where white moth-wing 
is riotous

and a spider's touch
carnal.



©AndrewJamesMurray

View original post

Midnight, July

Midnight, July

We writhe
with a rage to know
the unknowable,

blind to great masses
that dance in dark orbits.
And a soft, summer wind 
on a night beneath stars
is no balm.

From somewhere a whistle 
casts a line,

a fragile camaraderie
in a world
fell silent,

where white moth-wing
is riotous

and a spider's touch
carnal.


©Andrew James Murray