The Revolving Door of Irony

By John Grey

A season is broken into mist and stone.
Attempting verification, my hand disappears.
Rows of light breed some false, some real.

The sun goes down into the roots of a weed.
Orion shifts its weight clumsily.
Photos are cemented to the walls of a pastel room.

A child, easily diverted, burrows into dead wood.
A carnival of slumber is accessible to all.
Passionless scars broadcast water freezing into ice.

And, below all this, there’s struggle.
An endless moment trapped in the now.
A train whistle scattering the outfield gulls.

Hawks shear the edge of serrated hills.
Stretching is indistinguishable from height.
The dance is merely fire in rhythm.

Mission emotional has run out of requests.
A closed umbrella punctuates the rain.
Paper and pen – arrogant and undaunted.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Sheepshead Review, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” “Memory Outside The Head” and “Guest Of Myself” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Ellipsis, Blueline and International Poetry Review.