daring to be
darling
those sashaying
buds of May

tempt me nearer
dearest
I am looking
for your flower

I will race
when your petals part
and there in your heart
a dance

nothingness from Khaos:
us.
far-reaching apes
throwing complex
machines
at rocks.
Kosmos laughs.

falling grace destroys
May eyes

November's thrill
of cold nights
made warm by
coupling
Is
distant view
past April
fawning. As I failed
while rampant sap
slamming into buds
forcing tender tips
into still harsh
winds.

my eyes shut tight
coward's that feared
tears made sharp, as
ice, would slice
your beauty from
perception.

single sensed you are not.

blossoms scent carried you away.
Flush of palest green
became a tender pastel of
pinks with deep set dark
honey centres.

They fell in May. I gathered and
as fool grabbed handfuls to fling
in air commanding they stay there.
again.

you. gravid. new grace. Swelled
rosy cheeked preparing to fall.

almond eyes lowered under cover.
hands stained red with dirt are held.
wantonly, widows lift veils, waiting
for sheet flagging a ****** crossing

smug as June's rose.
pumped up pride.
there she goes
with
sisters side to side.
hands clenched as fist
and holding feathers
white. The gist:
'cause you shame
our fighting brothers.

eyes are haunted
though.
the love she
hides for other
than her soldier
in Flanders
who beats her
sore
when ashore.

so brave, bearer of white feathers,
where is your courage tethered.

cankered by self
centred bullseyes.
target
for arrows fledged
from dead wings.

love could be
nylon now.
sores do not
care if
instruments are false.

strung between the
hurt now and
some notion
of then words
flow.

do they salve
or do they
sear the flesh
stretched
weeping
consequence
of loving.

words if to sear
should find ear
who made one so ...
strange.

words if to salve
should not halve
loves joy into
loss.

love is purposed . true
to words that are not used
as whips or leashes.

no fertile ground
in words bound
to regret.

There is of
me so little
to be buff
that fickle
you wants.
You so vain
need me to explain.
You then see magasines
make bad mirrors.

gently start with levers
on the staples
holding heart

prise those sharp
fingers from me
they will not rise

the tenderness, lift
that beat from it
that allows to send

sound felt through
ribbed cage keeper
of purple welt

be deaf. move hands
to ears. my heart is
better left

pinned by my own
fears

sometimes seen hunting

for metal fibres to coil

around glass


hair streaked with henna

hair and hands hardened by

concrete


something elemental about him

that flowed into the artisan

outpourings scattered around.


it was as if the shards with metal

sinews were progenitors . Tiny

capsules from which he came.


how he cradled them

gave that the air.


sure they were on show but, priced not to sell


on show but never untouched


a show



that drew in *******. He worked with rejects.

Affinity perhaps. He surely had nothing

for the **** that was drifting toward him.


Hard faced and beaten; wandering the market

bored of themselves . Hating money moving

without them.


One gestured at broken glass caged in wire.

A whimsy for a small hand.

Waving paper money as an offer. The elements

of him did not move. The flash of blade insisted


Rising. Blade dancing the market hushed.

Maker stood and slowly lifted his shirt.

In the dusty brown of dirt he glared pale.

The blade to the noise of the bearers

procession menaces his face until


light catches the copper sutures

stitching flesh to bone

ultra spectral radiance
captured in faceted
eye

lure, in curve, of stoop
stops
looping flight

here is sweetness
to be teased.
I will wet you
then
redress.

now I am favoured
go savour, honey.

there is no hurt that takes
more than is surrendered.

it is subjective. perhaps
it is this that makes
discord:

one does not understand.
other cannot accept knowing.

pain remains in place
and so makes pains
of hope(?)
in the other.

such passion is living
and any death
is in, and not of,
a person.

tree shadow
stretches over sundial
time stops

loneliest vigil I have ever seen repeated
crumpled by neglect it's weight seated
in self scorn and mirrored in signs
iterated in his brothers' eyes.

move on 'cause I've hurt the scene
they spotted that past being
of below all view and prone
exposed given a penny, a bone.

a moment stretched by same inflection
a parallel mirrors reflection reflection.
i, looker, am in that view light tied
and there a fraternity fixed resides

yes. stop I did and did devour
that set to review in every hour

elephant silently
steps past
slumbering
baby
by
trees,
by
wind,
humming
lullabies.

gritty mud shifts
old stub of
coil

fused into a
tube ridged
like a worm

neglected sheds
of utility
futile in dirt

plastic band
white wipes
clean

it unlike the
iron
refuses to
favour soil

dry insides that
rasp on
strained forgiveness.

augered goodness
residues cake that
is bitter.

changes are not
all the same.

pressure makes
liquid out of nothing.
screws force liquid
out.

one magic the
other tragic
and spent

truly a sky
made of sly seabirds
precipitations

caught in my throat
between a grab for
air and a wail.

is leftover, you.

easy panic runs
me . please hold me here.
This moment of
pain.

just here I can understand
letting go and holding on.

to breath and then weep
or weep and never breathe
again.

red, yellow, blue sore saucers glaring in light
some rewards of flight from a dark night.
weeping a little in my honeyed bed.
haematoma proof of the love you bled.

tender sacrifice under arc in flight.
the sting of conquester’s wing, a slight
on your grace and features that will bring:
no scream but in colours you'll sing.

the rhythm. a slap, a punch, a slap, slap
you collapse and welcome into open flap
it's sting, ****** of stamen into stigma.
a death most welcome in heat of day

when, in killing bed,your sisters heralds
good King Chloris in the closing chorus.

something about a little street and pigeons

past the road crossed by

pigeons driven by fear

of hurrying commuters

or hunger for fast food

bags

is the last shop



It's forever open door sentried

by wine soaked owner

unsteady on the

edge



pavement and narrow

road bottlenecks so

that with some relief

customers hurry by



Yet. So like the

books he sells

there is no world

until the page is

turned



that door frames

a world of change

that a simple word

unlocks



instead people curse

the pigeons

and worry

about clocks

shouting

departure times

lustre worthy
of Murano
and industry
too

desire of the
impossible light
in glass that
crystals it's edges
is absent

want

is the song.
the pure note
of blown
glass.

music made
when gently
struck
in time with
ebb and flow
of it's water.

sing. I am response.

together
rug is folded
picnic over

affronted
by words
crafted to
incite
a gale howls
in protest.
I temper.
response to
goad is
your lead.
I set leeward
in spite.

striking out to walk at night.
noise to move out the shadows.
my place to lurk

the wrapping of dark treacle's
out of me brings cold to
trap the meek.

not brightness blinding but
insidiously denying essence.
abusing the numb.

later in reflection holding
husks . the shadows creep
into me as remorse.

sinews taut running
tendons stringing muscle
to bone

armour front
and haunches
lowered menace
mechanised into form :
fangs
spittle
ears flat
eyes adrenaline wide.

viscous red tongue venting
between growls
gut deep.

yet and twisted

rolled on side the
frame is supine. flattening
hair stiffened to bulk
to frighten

hormone rush is now quivering,
racing pulse and, throbbing
veins exposed under
flesh shy of bone.

near gutless .meat offered
to fangs wet with it's blood.
ears folded hear the howl.
there is silence and
a final pathetic yelp.
platitudes.
To the pack standing
in lines witness will departing
in the
blooding of a king.

you dared.
the night ruby.
tight furled and guarded
by fangs lined
green and brown.

you came.
a delight in
in light unwrapping
moistened by
drops of a
dawn that rolled
your curves.
shimmered in
your folds.

you held.
on my
darkening bleed, spoilt
and drying hard,
on your soft
vermilions.
*****, holding
you too tight.

scratched my eyes raw
shifted perspective.

sky is transformed
into cathedral's ceiling

a building symphony filled
my ears. such music.

phony senses have
created reality.

but there is pavement
and, lampost and,
dog ****

a meandering we will go
like winds hunting sails
the after love love glow.
stops. two hearts it fails

strangled on it's own
cord cursed stillborn
blood wetted down
less hair more devil's horn

shoebox size coffin
barers slapping hands
lest grief is forgotten
loves fire buried in sands

there is pain but absent
blame: dead love is nascent.

sliding excuse
again
sidling nearer
gin
in hand.

a mess. sodden
and part ******
for what
you call you
or what
they call you.

matters naught
to innocents.
eyes tell hearts
only what is
taught

by mind.

my child knows
only of tumbling
and faces messy
from trembling
in joy.

you are the happiest
person in the world
of his heart.

scraping away tack
marks of your photos
leaves
black on my fingers .

like old newspapers .

something of
yesterday
marking today
to
mess up tomorrow .

hit hard switch back
metal hidden in
flesh.

hooked.

the rush up
into another world.
the
slow gag .

tears never
dissolve
enough oxygen

curved and stretched
tiny sinews rub
tendons

opposite prayer
hands open
to the sky
catching drops
tiny droplets
water dropping
a blessing

too small for
such abundance
river running
ruining modesty.
run. You chase me.


arms pumping
water moving
liquid bodies
pool in glade
pulling off me
moon pools burst
you fountain
on me.

bird carcass
headless
a trophy someplace

crescent moon
scythes from reality
rounded sleep

pebble
alone on path
shingle

you're angry,
i see.
you say
i'm danger.

i see you
carrying stones
i hear ground
beat with
sticks.

i have pain.
you are
sick.

money slides
across accounts of
intercontinental banks

so taxing on people
this game of cups

do not chase me with garland
of apologies strung from sheds
of regret.

i love flowers.
in fields
and their dotes
ink linked so
they exist forever.

such passing events worthy
pursuit set me abundant
in decorant

butterfly
leaves dead wings
early fall

brick pointer
arrows empty sky
St. Somebody

man limps across
busy street the cars stop
standing for attention

vermin hands in salutation
to the first martyr

take me ,as he, as lesson
to the children

***** wings on angels
bare, carry away sin
and virtue

dust falling from dry eyes:
have no wet
for you
street imp

meat in your caustic
cell has been saponified. 
the cleansing of laboured
love by dissolution.

essential chains broken 
because you were stained.

the burning heat of lust
tossed into a chemical soup
where passion passed for
addiction and fidelity was
a *****.

you clean. stand tall.
on the wax of my bones

risen by tracing
a relief of you in silk
Venus razes dawn

sparrow hops
onto fence
with broken gate

spun again
why the grey veil
carousel

birds on roof
scream some instruction
flight club

tears have welled me
curtailed
cut up
cupped

pure hope is
they remain
vesselled.

in me or in vial.

as tears dry inside me
the one dropped in
glass
is just water

the others ache
behind
vitreous

what means this

raised hand

a fist



figure me not

i see hope

aloft

(but)

in that salute

jut square

in air



is threat, malice

violent

prejudice



halting fear and

lower that hand

take mine in yours

no weapons

in our wars

hooks hang from me
catching stares
on so normal streets

hooks cut from
lines baited with
bits of dead lovers

I carry on. rust
marked aware
of your barbs

swaying in the wind

flowers are keeping the time

bells and trumpets play

optical sky
blue is an illusion
grey an effect