Sandy Player Poems

I hold a long sable torch,
Currently dead to energy,
And put a stare into the mirror
Concavely doming the bulb;
...

Round a bend on a cracked path
As old as the bone chits that are pressed in
Six feet under,
I stand to the side
...

A tree can't sing;
They say mice go 'squeak'
And fish go 'sploosh'
But a tree is renowned for
...

My word, have you murdered me?
No? Then whose word? My what? Am I killed?
Did you do it? What have you done to me?
Is it to me though, is it to me?
...

You, my bed,
Four legged minotaur
Soft-bellied gestapo man,
I am your running gypsy
...

It feels as though I am a small, Twite-like bird
Caught inside a smooth glass ball spinning
Towards the foamy lip loom of the sea;
I am going to die and I can do nothing about it. The cliff face
...

I lay my head down soundlessly
And watch my will trickle
Down my wedding white cheek
Until it is absorbed into the aphotic pillow.
...

Miles away from where you live in your sky-searching city
There's a large brown hill also wearing clouds.

Like the condemned man's blindfold.
...

'I think it's a Butterfly Goodeid'
She said at the fish tank whilst the boy
Stared the green paper waste bin down.
It stuck to his eyes like dry blood on a dirty wound.
...

Your rain drip,
Did you not think they'd notice?
The elements?
The pure consistency of it failed to illude
...