Icarus (from Wish)

Where did you go
when you’d engraved
these words into the spring’s
herb covered rock;
drink and forget yourself.

Did you slake your thirst;
your journey ebbing
in content oblivion:
did you start again
or waste your days

trying to assuage
survivor’s guilt;
selling yourself to
shoot up in a squat,
in Bodrum or Kos

another Icarus
who lost his way
over the sea, bereft
of everything except
the will to be free.

Far From Here (published in Poetry Salzburg Review, Issue 35 Summer 2020)

Don’t you ever feel like
walking to the day’s end,
then curling up inside
a ditch or doorway;
till dawn kicks you
in the ribs and
moves you on again?

The sky looks up
with a beatific gaze,
but there’s no miracle.
An evanescent road
pools in the heat –
too far to call
even for swifts,
that populate dusk
with their screeches.

I will return to those
strange arches where
perpetual rain falls;
choose a happier door.
Dear friend, if you
have ever loved me
tell me now –

be here, somehow.