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.
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
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
