Away w'th th'moon 
with her shadows and all
those sturdy penumbras
you saw in the ball.

Forget you, forget you
you fall out of bed
and all you beget
is quite suddenly dead..

She’s tousled & sleepy,
this edge of the moon
where Angus, dear Angus,
just walked out the room.

His pool-side of shadows
is living alone,
with ginger-nut biscuits
and large gulps of tea,
my shadow is thinking:
is that really me?

Are all of the currents
still  drifting away,
or finally forging
a minor delay?

In fosteing a loyalty
to heart, clan or cloud
we cover our heads
when we bury the shroud.

Infinity saves,
while the icicles cling,
on the edge of a wave,
where the albatross sings.

Now, the soft roar of silence
is all around we,
it stings me awake,
but it wont set me free.

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