Sunstroke

SHONE on my wrist-watch, the sun.
WRIST tastes of chili, that’s weird.
CHILI con canoe – er, carne – how dumb!
CANOE reflects water; sun shone, I steered.  

Gate to the Future

GROUTs peered at in cup’s bottom reveal what future?
SPURT of fateful activity, but where, who, to whom?
TOWEL from Hitchhiker’s I might as well wrap round my eyes.
A GATE to the future is every moment, and all I know is stepping through it.

Agate

AGATE is a crystalline canvas, a tie-dyed rock daubed with a paint-soaked

TOWEL and fine brushes, streaked with squeezed and shaken

SPURTs of colors from tubes and buckets. Even rock need not be mere bland

GROUT or gravel when in the hands of a Master Artist.

If The Kraken Still Had Eyes

NEWLY found specimen, giant squid, eyes the size of dinner-plates.
PUPILs, slits in light, plates in the deep, always seem to watch you,
UTTER fascination, thrill for the museum-goers. What if it were alive?
BRINE? If I were in there with it? It would see me . . . it’d be the last thing I ever see.

Baler

A hay
BALER’s an amazing machine, it
AMAZEs me how spicy it feels to watch it
SEGUE cut or raked crops into block bales;
SPICY the zing that lightnings down my spine.