Skip to main content

thole thule


Pale rulered ceiling low.
The fog a second sky at ten paces.
Your breath a third foglet.
You'd review harshly a film ending
among this melodramatic a cloud chamber,
lazy with meteorological ellipsis.

Away, you forget endmost
Grampian, the uniformity and wall-eyed mist.
Back, grey cries for colour: quayside tattoos,
neon dye, J├Ąger. Colour isn't given.

Nae thermo, nae sae dynamic. (Ootsides, onywauy.)
Folk thole the grey reef lang enou,
puddle in the sea, hoovering
at livid macroeconomic cracks.
Abdy oxidates, no white-het but blue.
A'hin blurs. A'hin levels. A'hin mixes. A'hin cools.


Comments