Litter

[eclipse]

Pattern is discerned  as the wind blows against letters on street signs seeking a seance to contact humanity. The moon's conscience sleeps on a dumped mattress woken by ghosts protesting about the litter in Paradise.

Angels feign death on heavens tides washing gaps in natures strides, beached whale dies with a plastic bottle with an expiry date laying in its stomach.

Ghosts and angels are interchangeable, one of ice, sand, desert hands cover the eyes of time and won't see the police detective being imprisoned for the convicts crime, who will capture fading  fingerprints and scattered hints.
 

[Tinker]

Hi Barry,   I know you were having a problem only writing on your phone which didn't allow you to break you poem into lines, I am wondering is that still the case or is this meant to appear as prose poetry?    Which ever, this one, although I can see potential line breaks, I like it strung out without breaks.  It has your signature unique imagery and it also has wonderful sonics.  Reading it aloud is like singing.  Your concern for the environment has been coming through your work, loud and clear lately.   I love it.

~~Judi

[tonyv]

The expressions in the first two stanzas are especially powerful, replete with relevant imagery. Good work, Barry.

Tony