Tuur Verheyde
Half-sleep Shard-scenes
A poet sleeps
To steal Dream’s
Shattered scenes;
Their stories flee
The breaking
Dawn.
*
A half-hill in black
Sailing on a lake
Of ashen mist.
*
Vermillion skies
Meet a bludgeoned cop
Car on the road.
*
Clouds like coal
Encroach on a quaint
Pastoral.
*
A wave-worn sloop
Nears long-missed
Pearl cliffs.
*
A wandering child
Breaches a hedge
To greet the grim
Forest edge.
*
A back-lander uncovers
Unbidden mourning
In the winnowing white.
*
Beneath a ruined arch
Whispers spill secret
Histories as the twilight
Sets.
*
In the lost nether dark
A winged flare guides
The herald hither.
*
There’s a Tolkien-esque
Divergence where
Green prevails
Yet roles reverse.
*
A bald man twirls
On a sword like a Beyblade,
His head blindfolded,
One arm raised towards
The furrowed dusk.
*
A game of chess
On a whaling ship
Ends when the leviathan
Rises. Darkness follows
As marine blue blobs
Are eaten in a candid
Flash.
*
A fisherman leans
Over the jetty’s edge,
Gazing through the sodden
Murk to meet, in a blink,
An undine smirk.
*
Light-years away
A being interrogates
The sky: Where are the children
You promised before? Can we
Hope for their descent?
*
A crag creature burrows
Deep beneath your home,
Sculpting hollows to house
Its foundling godhead.
*
A woodland warden
Finds our faded traces;
She leaves her own
To herd us home.
*
An apocalypse spent
Gazing at flame-fall
And starlight tears,
Watching endings,
As beginnings unveil.
*
You, scrambling
Through a cardboard
Warren, tearing its walls
To reveal endless paper
Depths.
*
Me, transcribing
Scriptures of ineffable
Sanctities, sowing
Meaning only through
The serendipitous
Variety of being.
*
And on goes the drift
Into occult bodies
Of senseless seeing. You and I,
Eternal castaways,
Kissing the shores of veiled
Subconscious, sniffing
Its salts, snatching its precious
Shard-shells to save
And unseam.
