A poem My atoms desire your atoms, they are poems that soar above the stars that made them they reach out to you, wanting, dreaming of fate, although it scorns them for nothing much happens when you fall in love on a sub atomic basis Just wanting, just dreaming of the light that shines on your face, the same light that travelled from a star to find you in this room where I find you, seeking a sock, consulting the clock on your iphone, measuring our time must atoms rhyme? to form a garland of verse or must they disperse, to the dark side of verse, Where I curse the impulse that compels you to leave me for the cornflakes aisle in Tesco and there find atoms of our former selves on the pastry shelves that day we got profiteroles that touched such sweet things in our souls til we mingled and tingled like a loom band bewitched.
As the memorial service commences for Charlie Kirk - the white supremacist fascist who gloated over and cheered on the mass murder, the bombing, shooting, burning and deliberate starvation, of ten of thousands of innocent chikdren in Gaza, I'm thinking of John Prine's immortal words: 'but your flag decal won't get you into heaven any more, we're already overcrowded with your dirty little war.'