angst cycle (iii) — [Ʀ] (vi)

the sky seems an unceasing grey
really because the grey’s the rain
that you can’t see through

but it’s the unceasing grey
of the sea the open sea
the surface of a near–unending depth

a hundred millions year and more
of rabid ravenous change
a great home of great life

whether stunning swarms of fish gangs
or extraordinary hard to imagine strange creatures
and monsters sitting in the depths

where they are required to belong
orchids of the octopii
squids like double decker trains

submarines with their cargo
of unaffordable translation
visiting cards from psychopaths

all from a flat plain of falling grey
that’s now catastrophing into
putting the condom back on the brolly