Suddenly
December...


with a rueful
little smile,

swept the weeks
into a pile

of a year
gone by...

They'll give me a page
present me a pen

but I'll draw my
own conclusions

Leave
in peace


this gull-bone light,
to beechwood feasting
vapours,

And may it be
a paper ship,

our languages
of liberty
borne sea-ward
by the falling water

thoughts
to mean the World
for those who languish,
foamed in contemplation

bending
from their tree-top
forts to bid the fond
farewell

I have
not forgotten

-you-

purring, from
the parching tree

Your unassuming
crooning wooed
the willows
of an older
England

earth-smoke

fumitory..

summer songs
of Solomon

A single sweet monotonony
dependable as harvest store

came summoning the daysleep
word delectable.

The form
the flux,
the constant
becomings

the duty,
distraction,
the running
of motors,

the quotas,
the breadline,
the rising
and shining

the hiding
a stupefied look
in your eyes

There is an art to letting-go,
A craft, I hurt to master

I've asked the four-winds
what they know

But haven't heard
their answer

Someone
swears

"We'll
never see
the likes of this
again"

The day
withdraws
exquisitely...

Charisma,
only evening has,
coagulates
in orange bloods..

dancing by the castle turrets-

scarlet mixing fuchsia pinks

sinking into psyche ...



How joyously
we raised our arms
raised our arms and sang,

sang deep into the starlit mirth
of everything we ever were

and ever dared to be...