Bright

This is how it was:

work
exhaustion,

leaving
my brain
strained

like a cup
of stewed tea,

and I'm sitting amongst friends
and Bright words dazzle wit around me:
and I can see shock ideas sparking from mind to mind,
and I can see the air bright as each temple burns,

as I fight
to raise
my words
beyond
the dull.

Its like
trying
to make
espresso

using
dust.

That was me, tonight:
dull, someone kept saying.
She was right.

Tring

This poem is retained for "possible" publication in a forthcoming edition of Orbis.