Garry Stanton Poems

Crawling on its hands
And knees,
Or sliding serpent-like
On a belly smeared
...

You saw it
all. You saw
too much, I think.
...

I reach into a Grandfather Clock.
The parlour is still,
without ticks
in this dead afternoon hour,
...

funny how we are each
ghosts of the future,
our histories
before us.
...

I place my penny
in the vending machine of
Eternity. It grinds and groans.
Metal on metal.
...

Love was in this place. He
scuttled and lounged and
slobbed,
made himself welcome. But
...

Take a look at your
Self. Do you think you are
Frightening?
Well, ok, you are.
...

For the lost people of St Kilda

Black eyes, staring.
Melancholic, not angry.
...

I went out onto the breakwater
the memories afloat on the waves...

I took a walk on the breakwater
...

History hangs heavy
In the air,
Anonymous assassin
Pooled still between
...