Started with electrics | two strangers on their way to Tangiers / tangerines | a split in the ignition, right at the heart | which leaves it, then | no heart at all, but along the quietest reaches | of a story | a lush river among reeds | the skeleton of a heron | mist and Russia in the hush | feel on your bare soles, neck’s nape, pale shins | the continent spreading around you | in pomegranates and furs | and the vast | eyes of forever | come closer | to gaze | calmly into your startled eyes

In the centre you decide | at the vital | epicentre of a mysterious | bomb | freeze | Moments’ | explosion | many, many things | unclear | the city | standing | very still in the rising | dome of illumination | the dawn of dawn | and the flames as yet | unsure what to grip | the juice | dripping from your chin | or the minaret | haunting with its call to prayer


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)
(this poem, August 2014)