GULF OF BOTHNIA – ON THE WAY TO RUSSIA

Midnight aches at the length of life

The endless day

Blocking the porthole-elbow of Bothnia:

One grand eye lit in twelve o’clock yellow,

Turquoise and carmine sun

A wound gouged by the night-dragon

Not yet asleep.

Day bleeds to death

Sea close enough to dip

The pen and write in.

No midsummer howitzer can give

A morphine blast and send the sun

To whatever will rise up at dawn for me.

Space and midnight fill all emptiness,

As lost love bleeds acidic dreams

Into the solvent sea:

Red like a Roman bath.