Pylons crave winter
Straddling desolate vistas
Steely conveyors
Nice and gentle girder
Joycean credential
Consequential sentimental
Do the Strander
Talk is of Kali
Eleven hour candle says nine
Suddenly snuffed it
Solitude is loneliness
Without persistent bullshit
In a hurricane lagoon
festooned by small flying things
concerned onlookers
fluster on the windswept beach
call emergency services
in case it’s a grand mal fit.