my pain can be measured

by the flickering flames of

fire burning in the corner

of my tear stained eye


it must be measured by the

angles of the rays of sunlight

and moonlight as they pass

over the wilderness of the moors


my pain is there in the distance

as the blackbird files to find pies

and near in the flock of

sheep counting till they go to sleep


it is in the spots on dalmatians

running down the road in single file

and in the tails of nine cats

staring at the world from a tree


my pain is in the well of oil

that spurts from the burnt crust

of sliced earth leaping from the

frying pan into a funeral pyre


my pain is here, it is there

it is high, it is low

it has no end and no beginning

i can see it in the stars

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s