that's life

by David McLean

nobody could explain why the sun seemed discontented,
as if shining were boring. and words killed children still
that morning, as now, as always, though the reluctant
light played its daily disaster, the needy cancers of which
it dreamed were small and obscene already, the bleeding
was the meaning, and all the fathers assembled
their deaths, yet, the breath of god was on them, a dog's
defecation that traced misty clouds through the poison
sky. that's life

©David McLean

David McLean is Welsh but has lived in Sweden since 1987.  He lives there on an island in the Stockholm archipelago with a woman, five selfish cats, and a stupid dog.  He has a BA in History from Oxford, and an unconnected MA in philosophy, much later, from Stockholm.  Details of his available books, chapbooks, and over 850 poems in or forthcoming at 370 places online or in print over the last couple of years, are at his blog at http://mourningabortion.blogspot.com.  He never submits by snail mail since he has little money and since he loves, or at least doesn't have anything against, trees.  Among things forthcoming is a chapbook called nobody wants to go to heaven but everybody wants to die from Poptritus Press in summer 2009.  Early 2010 an anthology called laughing at funerals will appear with Epic Rites Publications.  A 50 poem chapbook from Epic Rites called hellbound is on sale now.  For Epic Rites he edits the chapbook series and the e-zines lines written with a razor and the thin edge of staring, as well as selecting works for the radio network.