Author: jim clayton
circadian rhythms
walruses snooze
wherever they choose
one tusk hooked in the floe
sea otters snore
in rafts offshore
drifting paw to toe
koalas nap happily
high in the canopy
of australian botanica
swifts have an aptitude
for dozing at altitude
half way back from Africa
spiders catch zeds
in zigzag beds
dangling a la mode
people siesta
in ford fiestas
parked up by the side of the road
a worldwide slumber
everything zonked
stilled without number
in mountains or swamps
an old time lullaby
the dreams it brings
the earth’s soft hushabye
she sings as she spins
oops there goes another one
Romans saw omens but over-extended
Mayans lost water on which they depended
Qin caved-in under floods & droughts
Egyptians inflicted by military routs
Phoenicians ceased in trade war traumas
Greeks peaked at fractious borders
Ottomans bottomed, politically arthritic
Sumerians despaired when their soil turned acidic
(So our imminent collapse should hold no surprises
Preceded by so many famous demises)
southbound, M40
May 17th, 2024
in an empty hire van heading for
home
moving job done
Martha to Manchester
the start of something better
and we’re making good time
I’m hardly trying
any quicker’s technically flying
but then … not
cars, lorries, EVERYTHING stopped
the motorway a parking lot
time passes
in a convoy of yawns
and stationary sunglasses
drivers get out
straining to see what the nothing’s about
uncertainly birthed
on the tarmac earth
in comfort onesies and business skirts
overalls, trainers, ties and shirts
from ETA to absolute nought
surviving on the last of the M&Ms they bought
while the traffic in the northbound stretch
rushes back to the life they left
how suddenly
how completely everything changes
routes into roots
the wind winding through a field of wheat
a baby in a woman’s arms
life barely begun
laughing at the line of cars
reaching for the sun
why
so why did Jesus cry out on the cross?
was he lost?
double-crossed?
finally failed
by the father he’d trailed
as the one true god who always prevail’d?
the beard in the sky
the good time guy
the holy moly hero on high
CEO
of everything below
the man who made everything – yea – even the iron
they forged into nails to crucify ‘im
jeez – thanks dad
my bad
I thought for a second you were on my side
I’d give you the finger but my hands are tied
CV
peaked too early
went too late
lost it at
the starting gate
blew his chances
luck n’wad
went for the meg with a fishing rod
his journey of a thousand miles started with a trip
his unsinkable plans lost all hands with the ship
a lunchtime Lennon spelled L E M O N
mr drift of the mr men
a tattooed star, a shirk in progress
a defection from the selection process
cometh the hour cometh the meh
and is he happy with that?
I think so.
Yeah
