by Mark Head

The river flow roll slow and panorama wide
Alone he stands
Non saying, swaying, contemplating
Sees how indifferently the river flows
You see, it knows
And sluggish, waiting
For those who heed the song of Lorelei
Those on the bridge span heaven high
Who are contemplating suicide.

His work death dull, dwell ever love
Has flown to other bowers
The products of their loins soul trained indifference
They are not home
But suckle love and warmth from other mothers.
His house
That haven of dead hopes
Snag unkempt teeth the rotting fence
Decay exhales the door ajar
The smell of stale and unkempt washing
Wafting for
He’s contemplating suicide.

There squats the plastic skirted can that yawns
Fat whore it overflows
With empty cans jag opener sharp
The call sign of the single.
The flies their legions seem absent
But scouts are ever present
For they of instinct know
The man whose broken clockspring life
Smashed casing gaping open wide
Is newly on the dump
Won’t run not yet begun to stink.
He’s contemplating suicide.

His heart the hammer anvil on which he forged his life
Lies cold
The tools he did his making twisted ruin flung to rust dry heaps
Green rising tides of bile now bites from throat
To gut bile moat for that now all it makes
His handspan’d sweat exhales and cools his palms
To spanning steel which stirs unease
Alive, it knows another creature on its back
Is colder dying.
Contemplating suicide.

Slow fading sunlight flees down shortening paths
Its shallow rays star slanting over ranks of sullen clouds
Cold rays
As pale as marble’s cold outline.

So a cloud chilled day begins to die
But in the slow time between day and night
Creatures of evening and morning meet
The hunter and hunted who feel soft births of new movements
The caress of soft breaths
It’s the aeons prayer of zephyrs
Plying playful whispers of new things to come.
But he is contemplating suicide.

Small movement stirs its slow momentum
The earth her airy mantle growls
So bridge spans quiver flexing steel muscles shiver
Shuddering and moaning to silence
by the calm moving gaze of the wind.
On the bridge span high a shadow for some second stands and slow dissolves away to mist The man part mind forever gone and rushing
To still’d waves of death grey grave
Descends cold steel walls 
Contemning suicide.


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