Shouting at Constellations
Fade into the shadows, the humble prophet,
the resident controversialist, the snack stealer
bespectacled and quivering, passive agressing,
manipulative and bold, whisperer of secrets.
Preface to forestall, the wind before the storm
bristling indignation, the vulgar representation,
breeze listener on the mizzen mast,
scope falling from a crow’s nest inputer.
Harken to your speculum, the grated mirror
while choppy waves abuse keel hauled revenants
bruised and battered mutineers, the north sea
readers, shouting at constellations.