Mal's Factory

raptorsthermal ridingcircling glidingtwo red kitesI stand transfixedrapt in the momentthe rest of timestood still

just another daystriving to ignorethe sundry aches and painsthe flesh is heir toI sit and watchthe rains incessant flow –birds flit

BRIGHTblue skywisp streakedwith silver greythe air is crisp -the frost dressed lawncracklesbeneath my feet   

PROMISEand nightfall bringsthe promise of releasefrom daily toilthe neon skylineshimmeringly bathesthe arena of desirein technicolour majestyMalcolm Evison a few nights ago - in the wee small hours - these lines emerged, shaped and reshaped themselves, as I lay in that hinterland between wakefulness

SHATTEREDhe rails exhaustedlyagainstthe unrelenting night -shatteredby restlessnesshe groansa welcometo a new daybreakprays that it's notan uninvited dream -still rails against

not quite reclaimedand hopefullynot pre-ordainedI floator rather limpinglyfalterinto that 'outcast' realmwhich was the youthfulprivilege of choice                    Malcolm Evison

IMPROMPTU FOR JACK Not so much a moment but all time, the steady refrain that “God is good”. What is this thing called good? Through all the pain and all the joys

spaces of the freeenter the spaces of the freelike tied and structuredsheer fall of the wellbreak bonds of libertyand set the foot restshackles freefrom their deformity -the first noel is mylast heavenChrist strewn across the soot hillsof the skythe merry chantsof fiery spiritssing for hima lullaby