Thursday, January 12, 2017

Robert Verdon, #415, last sunrise

my room is stifling as a wrestler’s armpit

muddy murmur of earth of earth

graveyard by the sea of electric currents and lost rivers

here lies the city of waxing crystal

full fathom five

time papered over time

muddy memorial, ruin of shadows

rumble in the walls — no quake, not wind, taut sail snaps

blues writhing in every filigreed mast and branch

birds with tears of joy carol here lay one whose name was writ in water

hope or Roman holiday along every grey lane

water (not ice) now legible, cycling to Babylon, bearing stripes and a cross

the workers’ flag is deepest red

shimmer in the meniscus of the world ocean

no more fixed than a star


as red fingers in dough

plush room air heavy with scented powder

named by a pantomime of thunderheads

petrified skeleton tree against the last sunrise


  1. Great poem, mate. Question (1): I must be dense, but if "sprouts" is (I imagine) being employed as a verb here, what's the subject? Question (2): notwithstanding the answer to (1), do you think the last sprout is necessary?

    1. the 'petrified skeleton tree' sprouts; maybe it is a bit supernumerary, will look at it when I am a bit more compos mentis!

  2. o christmas tree!

    great flow here
    it cries out to be read out

    1. Thanks Kit — BTW, what is happening to Project 366? What of Project 52? (Just emerging from post-Xmas haze here.)

  3. wow! I love it! and I agree with Rob, the last sprout seems unecessary to me as well


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