No tide can extinguish

 Water has reached the mouth yet has not put out flames
 Distant coastlines appear a single figure stains it
 still see the sun struggling behind its cover
The man with fire in his mouth saluts it

None can tell whether it is rising or setting
whether there are words in the fire of the man
 Can anything beneath his burning mouth be salvaged
The land will go up in flame

Is the warmth sinister even if it defies winter
If it melts snow and consumes despots?
Or merely an invention of a warped mind
A magic of a fierce will?

 And if you finally reach the shore
 will you recognise the land by its blackness

From the tactile

 You begin to understand
 Drowning is not about water
 It was the gradual surrender
 Your own judgement 

 To The mysteries
 Accumulated until their combined wonder
 Impossible to distinguish from your own existence
 The endurance for strength

 accommodation for love
 Avoidance of conflict for peace
 Ocean merely gave these private defeats
 a physical form

 Every wave carried another reminder
 allowing you to drift from the tactile solid infrastructure of lies

A lurker awaits

 one hundred meters beneath the surface
The wreckage of the ship certainty settles into the mud
A monster continues to move
 It bellows far beaneath the waves

 The creature patrols and lurks
 It hides around the sunken structure
Patience older than the ocean itself
 Occasionally pale shapes pass above
 
Disappearing before the eyes can establish what it was
 The creature is centuries old it knows the shapes
 It has been there all along
 waiting for the next ship to sink

Interchange shade

 Walking back from the adventure
From the try hards and want to be's
Its good to know
There are no short cuts

Incoming trains
the nature of the railway
The carbonized steel indifferent
The lines come first the journeys always

No comedy
Platform unsteady
Mimick a bystander
You better adjust

A generator counterweight rises and falls
The train system so efficient
No easy way out of the station
I fell off willingly, scared but ready to go

You must pretend

 People pretend to be something 
They sing and dance in public
just to get a glance 
Some cheap attention

For me there are colored walls
Piece of food and platic wrapped up
That is called leisure
Or living

But infact there seems to be no point to it
The gyms are full and the food courts too
The retail shops aggressive brightness
Human fishing human fishing approval

I walk away
I see this tacky distraction
which for most is the illusion of purpose

The unused filter

 The cylinder was dumped an hour ago.

It looks like some sort of fallen spaceship. For tiny aliens.
It looked pristine and completely out of place among the old pieces of litter.
Awkward old and moldy shapes and materials. But the filter was completely intact. Clean and unstained.
Though most of the people leaving their cars to dump their rubbish couldn’t recognize its shape and simply ignored it, as it was in their minds tainted by the wastes.

A young husband and wife dealing with their severance from hippydom and into family life.
They were hauling out a window frame with a good main pane and a wonderfully decorated stain glass. The woman almost tripped over the air filter.
“What the hell is this?” she says.
The husband looks back at it. “it's a vat of agrotoxin used on the local corn crops.” he snorts cynically.
“Eew.” She says.

An older man in his fifties came upon it and actually picked it up.
His nephew spoke up “Oh whoah.”
“It’s a new robot stomach son”
His nephew looked up at his uncle unbelievingly.
Why would a robot need a stomach? His nephew thought.
The nephew picked it up and threw it across the landfill.

A girl and her mother were throwing out old paper and damp books. The girl saw the air filter land close to the last books she left. She picked it up. It was so light.
She turned it in her hands, her mother continued to the trunk of the car and came out with her arms full and threw it all down, just keeping her daughter in her peripheral vision but not actually checking what she was doing.

She attempts to throw it exclaiming please dont touch the trash honey. Except the air filter catches the wind and makes it back into the daughters hands. The mother turns red noticing that other people have now turned to observe her and her daughter. Her shrill voice had given her away. Her daughter's giggling felt like an irritating social sabotage. Her arms wanted to reach out and throw it again this time far away where her daughter wouldn't get it. But no, now the eyes were there.

The air filter looked at her daughter's favorite new toy.
The woman let her keep it. She didn’t know what it was and almost changed her mind as she drove home with her daughter playing with it in the back.
After a morning of the daughter getting acquainted with the air filter she opened the purifier in her mother’s bedroom.

“What are you doing?” Her mother asked. But the daughter tucked the piece in. It fit.
“A new filter mom.” Her daughter said.
It was in fact working and as both mother and daughter both put their heads against the purifier.
The hum of it, comforting and homely.

The incredible inlet

 The last vestige of summer slowly gets pushed out by north winds
A beach where the local council shipped in sand to make it comfortable
Rockpools that come up to the waist extending from small reefs
Colorful seaweed and adapted corals can be seen from the top of the water

Big fish can be seen in the transparent waters and they approach
Fish whose fins struck out of the water and run along the waves
A brother and sister both young fishermen too attractive to be poor
Yet something crushingly local about them

On the side of the bay sat a palm protected from the north winds 
Everything seeemed out of place for the latitude
Seemingly too warm for a place where ice and snow would eventually claim
Like a fantasy given it's own temporary life