Never knew grief
could bite so deep,
my son. Dark night
succeeds dull day,
images replay
in black and white,
through dawn hours
following night.

Words captured,
last ones, over
and over in my
tired mind, in order,
exchanges, mundane,
but special now,
being the last.

Never thought
the knife of grief
could ****** so hard,
between shoulder blades,
heart, lungs, throat tight
and seemingly slit,
words choke, unable
to say, fingers push
damp cheeks
of tears away.

Dark day succeeds
drugged up night,
dawn's light
puts nothing right.

Never knew death
could undo so well,
my son, knew nothing
of the end game
until you went.

Life is not forever
just a brief gift
or maybe lent.
Never knew grief
could could so undo.

Dream following
nightmare, looking
for you, my son, for you.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

I've long since
kept an
extra
set of friends
in the background.

Its always
good
to have a spare.

Easily replaceable,
daily interchange

"Is it bad that I never made love, no I never did it
But I sure know how to ****"

god i might not know how to
say those three words,
but i'll kiss you against your soft
cotton sheets
and sprawl bare against them,
and make you think it all the same.

"Cause I had some issues, I won't commit
No, not having it"

i'll slink my body
and move my hips around the atmosphere
we'll both be drunk,
slurring on the beat
that my tongue moves to.

"I'll be your bad girl, I'll prove it to you
I can't promise that I'll be good to you"

my mouth is like
nicotine,
you'll never get enough of it.
but baby,
its so self destructive.

Grant me a corner
in which to cry;
through joyous eyes
I saw my son born,
through bleeding eyes
I watched him die.
Grant me a corner
in which to cry.

Permit me a quiet place;
let tender fingers
sew together
a wounded heart,
which through
my son's death,
has been torn apart.
Permit me
a healing place.

Allow me a soft bed
on which to rest;
let someone soothe
my aching brow;
keep the memory
of my first born son,
not amidst the dry reeds
or dull souls,
but amongst the best.
Allow me a bed
on which to rest.

I stared hard at
the night.
Half drunk in
a public park
that was still so
alive with
happy memories.

As a boy I
dreamed of
becoming nothing.
Now all I long
to do is this.
The words are all so
dear to me.
They've kept me warm
as I laid in cold
jail cells and
cold hide a ways

I promised myself
to free myself of the stress
of desire and need.
And to in gulf
all of what is
left of me into
this.

Only in the dark
can one truly
see the shadow
of madness
that's always one
more drink
or one more failure
behind it all..

I used all of
whats hidden in
the night as a mirror
to the world.
Scattered images and
the sound of the
night bird.
Traces of all
that lays stark
still in the night.

I warmed myself with
the last of the bottle.
I felt the presence
of all that is left
of the wild and
untamed in the city.
The Elder trees
stood stone silent
in all of their
greatness.
A testament to
the strength
and will of nature.

I whispered thanks
to the sun even
though I
felt better without its
presence.

The sea crashed
and sounded
its rage against
the edge of the world.

And I sat drunk
and alone in a
public park without
any of the clueless
public anywhere
near.

Mary wakes from
her, troubled, uneasy
sleep. She turns and
sees Alice behind her

looking at her. What
are you doing here?
she asks, sitting up,
looking down at the

child. Wanted to be
near you, Alice replies.
You can't come into

my bed, what will
they say if they find
you here? Mary's voice  
rises higher than she

meant. They won’t,
Alice says, no one
knows. They'll miss
you, Mary says, look

for you, and if they come,
what then? The child
sits up, rubs her eyes.
I'll hide, she says. Mary

sighs, lays back on the
bed, looks at the ceiling.
The child lies next to her,
head on her thin shoulder.

You can't do this, Alice.
But I have, the child says.
Your bed's lumpy. If they
find you in here, I’ll lose

my job and God knows
what'll happened then.
There is black spider
creeping along the dull

ceiling, slow movements.
We mustn't tell them,
Alice says. She runs a
small finger along

Mary's arm. You can't
stay here, Mary says,
you must go back to
your own bed before

they find you've gone.
Don't you love me any
more? Alice softly asks,
looking sideways at the

maid beside her. Yes,
of course I do, but this
mustn't happen again.
I'll be gone, then who

will you have to love,
now your mother's ill
and locked up? Alice
frowns and looked at

her hands, small, white,
pink. Mother used to
let me into her bed and
cuddle her. Her pink

fingers join and she
makes. I'm not your
mother, Mary says,
I’m just a maid who

wants keep her job.
Alice looks at her.
You said you'd be my
adopted mother. Mary

looks at her biting a lip.
Yes, I did. She looks
away, at the window
where lights begins

to show. All right,
but you must go back
now, before you're
missed. Can I come

another time? Alice
asks, her bright eyes
gazing. Yes, if I say so,
no creeping into my

bed at night unless
I know, Mary says.
Alice nods her head.
Best get back then,

she says. Be careful.
I will. And if I’m seen,
I’ll say I was sleep
walking, Alice says.

You mustn't lie, Mary
says. Should I tell them
the truth then? Alice asks,
smiling, getting down

from the bed. Be careful,
sleep walk just this once.
The child nods, opens the
door and closes with a

click. Mary gets out of
bed, opens the door, looks
along the dim passage.
The child has now gone.

Silence. Cold morning
air. A hard frost maybe.
What if she's seen? What
then? She shuts the door,

pours cold water from a
white jug into a white bowl.
Morning wash. Hands
into the water and throws

into her face. The coldness
wakes her. Far off a bird
sings. What if she's found
out of bed? What a turn up.

Poor kid. Me another mother
Nearby a church bell rings.

Whatever else
her Polish accent
didn’t do
it didn't stop

her quest for ***
and Benedict
nigh on gave in
one or twice

(who was counting?)
time on his hands
(a rare event)
or caught unaware

and thinking
do I dare?
and he had to admit
even against

his better will
she was
a lovely dame
and such

well?
Sophia said
you want to?
he looked passed her

at the door closed
the bed fresh made
as if she knew
bins all emptied

of their dust
and muck
you want me?
you want to ****?

he looked
at her blue uniform
the greeny top
the tight pressing bra

the eyes ice cool
I don't know
he said
what if some one calls?

or the old guy
comes back
to his room
for some reason

or other?
Sophia stood
always the excuses
always the worry

of others coming
or going
she said
come on

she said
sitting on
the fresh made bed
have me now

make up
your mind
he gazed out
the window

the snow was settled
trees hung
white with brown
not just now

he said
as she spread
herself down
upon the bed

one leg raised
a glimpse of thigh
caught as in a mirror
of his turning eye.

Book us a bed
and room for the day
Julie said
so you did

in some cheap dive
off Charing Cross Road
you were up London
for the day

so that booked
(the dame gave you
that oh yes of course
it's for ***

kind of look)
you ventured
to Dobell's Jazz shop
and picked out

an Ornette Coleman LP
and went into a booth
and was blown away
some concert

in Stockholm
he'd done
after that
you met Julie

in Trafalgar Square
and she was waiting there
dull of hair and eyes
(drug withdrawal)

and said
did you do it?
yes booked it
not far from here

you said
she nodded
and looked about her
at the crowds

and Nelson's Column
and the lion statues
shall we go now then?
she said

OK
you said
and you took her along
to where

the cheap dive was
and the dame
at the desk
gave her

enjoy it kid gaze
and up
the windy stairs
to an upper storey

and opened up the door
and went in
bit of a dump
Julie said

looking around  
a double bed
and chest of drawers
and dressing table

and a gas heater
she walked into
the bathroom
with a huge bath

and two enormous taps
you looked out
the window
which looked out

at a brick wall
it'll do
she said
and went to the bed

and sat on it
and bounced
up and down
a few times

not bad
she said
so then she took of her coat
and kicked off her shoes

and began to take off
her red jumper
are you here
just to watch?

she said
pulling the jumper
over her head
no just waiting

for the go
you said
well go then
she said

and you took off
the ankle boots
and jacket
and unbutton

your creamy shirt
and you noticed
her white bra
and the smallness

of her ****
and taking off
your shirt
you thought

of that quick ***
in the cupboard
in the hospital
where she was

for the drugs
and all
and how quick
and cramped

it was in there
yet here was room
and bed and you unzipped
your wide bottomed trousers

and stepped out of them
and she was already
in the bed
laying there waiting

and you got in
beside her
and touched her
right ***

and she said
**** me
your hand is cold
warm it up

she said
so you did
and she was happier then
with you beside her

your warmed up hands
feeling her
touching and holding
and she kissed you

and put her hands
about you
and then
it was all go

and outside London
was moving on
traffic roared
people getting

on with lives
a cat meowed
and a car backed fired
the gas fire spat out flames

and after the ***
laying back
she said
the nurse at the hospital

told the doctors
I was missing out
on medication
and taking

a backward step
(she'd taken a pill or two
from some ****
at a London club)

and as she talked
her head on the pillow
a cigarette held aloft
you lay beside her

thinking of her body
her thighs
her *******
her lips

her eyes
your cigarette held
to one side
smoke rising

ceiling ward  
you wanted
to make love again
as outside

on the windowsill
the sharp
pitter patter
of heavy rain.

In love they wore themselves in a green embrace.
A silken rain fell through the spring upon them.
In the park she fed the swans and he
whittled nervously with his strange hands.
And white was mixed with all their colours
as if they drew it from the flowering trees.

At night his two finger whistle brought her down
the waterfall stairs to his shy smile
which like an eddy, turned her round and round
lazily and slowly so her will
was nowhere—as in dreams things are and aren't.

Walking along avenues in the dark
street lamps sang like sopranos in their heads
with a voilence they never understood
and all their movements when they were together
had no conclusion.

Only leaning into the question had they motion;
after they parted were savage and swift as gulls.
asking and asking the hostile emptiness
they were as sharp as partly sculptured stone
and all who watched, forgetting, were amazed
to see them form and fade before their eyes.