And in my dreams around
Grass grew green in the sea
as grey steel knifes carved clean white
In the blue jade belly of the hills.
And winged people, rising, falling,
tempered with tortured, insipid sun.

​

Blue box people posed green with mechanical perfection.
Waiting wills poised ready for the kill
with death dormant in every breast, yet borne on every arm
Until, out of sight, they reached the yellow edge of my dream.

​

Then still more imagined, dreamed real death
and woven red water lapped the yellow edge.
Blue boxes spewed green fingers
And dormant deaths breasts fired fury and hate,
Still, bold, black foreign hills refused
And stood whole in their path.