sans merci

Or perhaps there was a wound just above
his left temple. He would already have been
bleeding for several days. A knight at arms
wandering, disorientated by the wood smoke
smell of rain. Vomiting cheap whiskey.

In every sense a modern urban scene.
The way pavement shine where no birds
sing. Always easier to picture in hindsight
how truly mundane and comic is the soul

in pain. Things I read a long time
ago. Words I said a long time ago.

Rhodedendroms on the pallisade
no there was a real mystery
to my mind. A careless proximity.