Joy

The weed humped rasta naps along the tide
the dreaded turk who watches from the shore
shredding the tapes
Stakes - no photographs - perched lazily out
on the gate-iron
a dusty snow-drop with a gun
not even kicking boots
peering out from under his metal bowl
in the shade

Ants
pattering at the sugar
keeping sweet
boiled bored
under his metal bowl

Past so much unseen (of hills)
this, this little piece of turf

Where is god
nodding leaves loves doves
paired on the wire
strung from sky to

sky a split mounting dome
the sun‘s bed
a burning rash - the gummed tooth
ditdah across the earth, the verse
the burning smoke
that none can smell but
the smoker

He sits spitting; salty grit from a
frecked face
tanine free melonin pip
stretch stiff back kidney stoned

Smudged out
fingerbrushed orange
like a setting manicure
the soft flurry of dusk
approaches all afluster
the chitons
rasp their own peculiarity
and usher the stars slowly
over joy