Rinsed behind pearl dove cloud to a red disc
the lit end of a cigarette sunset
sinks on a brooding Irish sea
extinguishing the day
like death returning flesh
to the womb of light
when our breathing note
no longer plays
in life's rare song
but disperses back
through air
to fill the sky
in silence
I did a satirical piece on Shmidt's Stanza lecture which is at poem.uk and on my irishpoetry.blogspot.com
Thank you very much for teleporting with me.
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