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There are two chambers by the sea
reminding the walker of something he had forgotten,
as knee deep in bracken he emerges into the clearing,
drawn by the lure of the sand and the heaving of a sea
that will cover everything,
as a counterpane covers the dead.

Before, he was in love with the white sand,
loving its warmth between his fingers.
Now it is the coldness of stone his fingers trace,
as he crawls inside for his bed.

Now he would enter the hall of his fathers,
even if it was to find himself an outcast.

Now he would exclude all light,
lay down under the bone hill,
listen to the swell of the sea
and the singing of his children.

There are two chambers by the sea.
between Bar Point and Pelistry.
In grassy circles I walk round
and clutch the treasure I have found.

Innisidgen by the sea,
burial chamber not for me.

Not for me this hall of stone,
cold as iron, cold as bone,

I have found a tiger shell,
I have found a lemon shell,

I have heard the soft sea swell
under Innisidgen.

[Innisidgen: two Bronze Age burial chambers, St Mary’s, Isles of Scilly]

headland 2

I often walk
this stony beach
uncomfortable upon the feet
but conducive to the mind
though I would rather not make rhymes
but wander to a place I know
around the headland
a mile or more
a little bay
a sheltered cove
where I arrange the stones
just so
bereft of any rhyme
or reason
hard to find
in any season
not on maps
nor in guide books
I only find
when I don’t look 

high visibility jacket

just north of lonesome
by several degrees
more lost than someone
has a right to be
in boots so tight
they shredded my feet
I consulted the void
that you left me
and demanded an angel
at the very least
in a shining jacket
high visibility
to descend at midnight
oh glory be
and pull those damn boots
clear off of me

slip knot

the day slips by so fast
I wonder what the point is

so I fix a point
gather the day



and soft falls
the wall clock

time ties
a slip knot


I pull back the curtains on the day
and find it has already gone

too late for yoga

I slip into the river
of the endless night
to find you no longer there

it is never too late
for prayer

sudden joy

sudden joy
was never yours at all
it’s like your lover left the room
or love never even called

sudden vacuum

map reference

when history crumbles
so does everything

we are nothing but a list
of names
map references

I remember the addresses
we have lived at

and one persimmon
on a bench between us
where we discovered
too astringent
to be enjoyed


Sincerely, L. Cohen

There was a time I would have played
Leonard Cohen till break of day.
Famous Blue Raincoat fifty times
to trouble more my troubled mind.

A voice so mournful it confides:
I have been with you to the dark side.
We are both prisoners on the dark side.

Furthermore, I hear him say,
tomorrow won’t be a better day.
It may not be a better day.

I pour the wine a little after late,
reach for Songs of Love and Hate.

Sincerely, E.B.

First posted May 14, 2014.

Songs of Love and Hate
Songs of Love and Hate (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


pale hart in the copse at dusk
under stars
that bristle on a chinless heaven

I have none
these things are random

I turn up my collar on the night
she is already gone