01 June 2010
(I have always believed that when in a writing rut you should just read some stuff and then write poetry, it wouldn't matter if it's any good, just get to writing. Once you have written one the rut will lift. My apologies to Neil Gaiman and the poem inside the story "Goldfish Pool and Other Stories".)
I am thinking of the city at night,
A theatre of no spectacle,
Shoved by the concrete lights
Seeing angels fearing flight,
Dreams of me, an imbecile,
I dream of the city tonight.
A sphere, an orb, a silver kite
In the hazy eyes of myself
I dream of the city at night.
