Fragments

A series of short sharp little bits of poetic fluff. Written quite a while ago. I am estimating they are at least 15 years old. Was doing some tidying, and was able to fit these onto here. Which is handy as I am working on something which takes a lot of my time, so I am not really making any suitable new poems. Lucky I was able to pull something out from the vault.

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Nothing.
As insubstantial as a monsoon.
Naive,
And as obsessive as a child.
It rains.

In our way of life
Even the lame, the obese,
The disfigured, have their place.
If only as the butt of jokes.

The hot summer nights
Drove the man
Who could hear the bats
Insane.

The evolution of the sexual act.
From the one celled creature,
That moved away from itself.
Two lives come together.

The symbiotic creature
Painstakingly eats solid rock.
Slowly spreading, unfolding ,
All mud and culture.

Nothing.
As insubstantial as a monsoon.
Naive,
And as obsessive as a child.
It rains.