Andy Nicholson
Two Poems
“Moon, morning moon….”
Moon, morning moon, silver
arc welds window to air,
prayer to coral. Choirs
drown and draw up harmony,
sing and sink.To bob
through duration,
grass rises to the cut.
Theatre Piece
That is what is. Sing
that this, this
wood world. Air—
you hall-creeper—
sing.
