In the Carribean
at the end of day
sun drops suddenly
like a fire ball
behind forested hills

Now we're up on the edge

and over, on the mountain

with mountains beyond. Behind us,

            in the dark

of the valley, villages are embers

Like to be a FIREWORK?

So would I.

To DAZZLE like a flower.

To SIZZLE in the sky.

With a CRACK and a BANG

and a BIM BAM BOOM!

From Things You Find in a Poet's Beard by A.F. Harrold

It tastes of high clouds

  of crisp cold

     of twilight

It tastes of autumn leaves

See her moonlight

bloom from thick forest

leaving the ground

plucking words from the stars

half heather mosses

deep purple wherries

Here now skyline assembles fire.
The sun collects up to leave.
Its bright following paled,
suddenly all goes. Dusk rushes
in, like door closed on windowless room.

When it's like this,

when mum is driving

and everyone is quiet,

heads toppling with sleep,

and the motorway is a dizzy black

slicked with lights,

At dawn, she climbs over the horizon
to slink between the curtains
and rest her head on your pillow.

Tadpoles huddled in a pond
afraid of the Carribean night,
its intense darkness.

Candleflies moving about,
lighting up and going out,
lighting up and going out.

It is midnight in the ice rink
And all is cool and still.
Darkness seems to hold its breath
Nothing moves, until