Myth explodes
in tinted showers
spectrums gather hidden forces
God-led powers coursing
through these vibrant linen layers.
 
Pith unloads
sweet minted flowers.
question matter, given sources.
Cadence laced with light, displaced
embodiment of prayer.

...and there are days
           when Imagine you
in ways, I really
          shouldn't do..

But, ****!.....
         it feels good...

Threw the pebble
into the sea,

a billion years
in to a billion years...

a stoop, a grab,
a swing of the arm...

thought nothing
of it...

Early bird
and barely held
emerging blur

stir coffee lines in irises
of ibis billed regret
divide me


Unexpected
great white egrets
underlit and unicorn
on secret morning movements

A prudency of ivy hides
the singer - not the song

a backing track of blackcap
warming, calling down
the early sun, as if
to walk beside me

I have
elemental
emblems,
tattooed
on my knuckles...

there are
days she loves
to feel the forces
stirring deep within...

too soon
they are in everything
both in and in between
the knowing.

treasuries of episode,
the elegies of reparation,
somehow, going, lightly,
when a calibrated wind
vows warm

gone
grateful to this
small of mercy,
swore, there to be thankful
where a poorly driven splinter
can not take the best
of all they gave...

this saviour
comes, circadian
to set these fraught
emotions down.
an apogee of
deep-green-sleep
that pays the ghost
to rest.....

The shock
and awe of
ordinary mornings,
saw me,
hat-in-hand,
plans slipped back
to the protein grain...

for
all my
false geometry,
the same
old pseudo attributes
exposed,

cloned,
sky-clad,
in this laughing gas
of dissipating
aspiration,

nothing more
than occupation,
poked in fear
and sold unease...




they never said,
the way would lead,
to any place but here...


but here
is where I'll stall
to find particulates
of dream.

You remove the joy
then as sure as endings
faith will follow..

It takes time to beat the boy
the young can mend,
are resilient
but persevere
the cracks will
widen.

Fill that space
with fear,
shame
ridicule,
despair

let that
fatten.

Marinade
in isolation.

There you
have him.
Have him
beaten...

So kick him out
as Man.
Out
into the plan-less
waste of living,

Then watch the fruit
of all achievement
cast from your
own spiteful holding

rot beneath
the tree
from which
it fell....

So far,
the voices rally
from the vortice
of an underpass.
Endorsed by cavilled
penury, more yesterday
than newspaper.

but nothing here, can
change the course
of rivers.

Bent-double
in their algorithm
fixed within their fiction,
though, a sheathing of
their tar-skimmed blade
played life in minds
of old unplenty..

Winter-kin
they were,
come carapaced,
lenticular

Sat where
the startled couple char
that narcoleptic zinfandel,

untrammelled, in their
moon-trashed subterranea.

Gone sparingly
about the lane
as I have laid some
cause to rest

had turned
the tide of thought
to leave me grateful

then I look to you,
as if I could,
to find you there,
the where, you would

alive,
among the latter
days of April......

Sometimes
when unoccupied
I hear the cries
of my lost legions

skin dispels
its drops of poison
to the tunes of lies
and treason....

Discomfort
pinches as regret
denies the liberty of
forgetfulness ....

We breathed so deeply
we could taste,
expatriating emptiness.

We  siphoned dreams
from mere escape
where minutes passed
like centuries...

ah-ha,
my itty harbinger,
of all-means-green,
All hail!

(a voice not heard
since Woodcock fell
on cusps of wet November)

Your two-note declaration
comes with umpteen possibilities

emaciated yesterdays
disintegrate in sound...

Monosylabic

lower case

becalmed

day-harm, flexed
with love thin spread
and unexpectant

textbook closure
white-of-lie

two minute token
taken back, on track
to stormless sanctums

          -leaving-

binding plight
of Seven Sisters

supple, vexed
impressed, Celestia
nuzzled by the dazzle dog

          -of evening-

Of course
it has to end
one day,
it always does..

but not like this...

so, now is not
the time to lose,
that bright and burning
will, that serves you well
beyond the quarantine
of rich imaginations.

And, should those
feral torments run,
then face them down
assured, for you are
stronger with this love
that coves, your everything
and more....

Of course
it has to end
one day,
it always does

but not like this..

then,
to the sound of bells
we'll tell of days we braved,

together...

There are flowers
on the railings

guess the place is
coming up for rent,

one wonders
where the love goes,
once the locks are changed
the doors repainted...

no locus
for the laughter
over Sunday tea
and homemade cake..

they scrape away
the old base coats
and blow the flecks
into the past

Seeing all

becoming

distant

Feeling time

giving, taking

seperating harmlessly

not longing for the velvet nothing.


Something
parsimonious

embittering
the marly glow

an antiquated
melancholy

speaks a name
I know

Sea breeze
leaves my reasoned lips
a baffled map of goodbye kisses

wispish curds of milky-weigh white horses
riding out bespoke and breaking
making shore...

this day will never come again..

tomorrow
but a glib Gomorrah,
sorrowed in some foreign fold
of muffled do's and dont's