In the Grey

Grey as the ashes

and the fog,

the gaps we’ve made

between our reason

and our fear.

The tremulous.


Given wide eye panoramas;

whole visions,

never split asunder.

Glimpses of the consequences,

the envy and the ire,

almost clairvoyance;

but the foot still misses a stair

and in the monochrome

of tempered spirit,

the hand finds no purchase,

for in killing every sure thing,

we exist now in a world of ghosts.


Confidante laid waste by indiscretion.

Our sensibilities betrayed

by hungering debutantes

that seek the rare and the exotic.

Perfumed of cardamom and grave wax,

scintillating and poisonous

and calling out

to strange harbours in the fog.



our temptations reft our caution

from our foresight

and conjecture wrote in large, black print

of the demise of measured candor.

So, with the canary

now out if his cage,

we stumble

and collide;

trying to catch a bird

in the grey haze of new culture,

continually issued in abundance

from the cold, blue lips

of young initiates.


Compromise and dalliance

are habit forming,

but with vision such as ours,


where once we saw the curvature of the Earth.




We step blindly in the direction of half familiar voices,

arms out before us,

hoping to touch some warm and comforting thing.

Where do we find safety in this half-light?

In this fog?

In this ghost-world?

In the grey?


HG -2016

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