Afterlife by Robert David Verdon

nibbling at the hothouse horizon
creeping into the day-moon’s shade
a vinyl disc warps over my head
as I pedal harder through bricolage to reach
the inevitable endless end
bendless bend
(picture if you can)
then realise I am not alone

we are all on bicycles
standard as icicles
or cloudy crescents of
processed algae on a fork

immortal day, ale-pure, found in the faraway,
like grist sprouting under a mill-stone,
revive us, sweating all a-lemony
for a timeless lifetime of eternal work

Robert Verdon
Robert Verdon has been writing for may years. He once belonged to Aberrant Genotype Press in Canberra. He came 2nd in the 2012 W.B. Yeats Poetry Prize, and was Highly Commended in the 2012 erbacce Prize, UK. His books include The Well- Scrubbed Desert, Her Brilliant Career, & Before we Knew this Century. He is currently completing PhD on the imaginal scene in poetry composition. His hobbies include cycling, walking and 10-pin bowling.

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