Night
(which curls like smoky velvet
And stains the world like spilled ink, the colour of lost thoughts)
...
Descends
(like a torrent of rain, cloaking the golden world in whispers and dark corners)
...
Softly,
(More tender than a mother, it difts like floating silken feathers and starry dreams)
...
Covering
(So completely as mummies wrapped in promises, clinging lustily to skin like wet cloth)
...
The world
(Our world, blazing with light)
...

In silence

Always the flow of water-across muddy banks and
Passages into lakes filled with the essence of nature,
Pulling tides and the smell of alpine, hickory wood and
firn. Always the flow of water-ever passive, trance state,
Picking up speed it rushes, like the sound of blood rushing
Through the earths veins, towards endless vinyards and orchards,
Cascading over cliffs like sparkling mist, into ravines and it continues
On. Into the forest, into the pines and the sage brush-not thinking,
Quick to find solace in this mid-morning dew, this canopy, deer hide.
Continue to be cloaked by the grass and thistle, branches and vines,
Not stopping, ever hiding in it-never looking back until reaching that
One point where it is certain that the past concrete, cement and steel,
Are but a thing of memories of tragic times to be kept so forever, never
Looking back, never to return or see them again until the very world ends.*

Always the tide of stream water, endless in the universe, it's strength,
And it's endless source, that source, from which all life flows...

Be inspired by blinding lights,
Followed by empty roads,
Let dotted images linger behind your eyelids,
As roaring traffic competes with stale music and smoke.
The lost crickets find solace in illuminated screens,
And my youthful insomniacs wonder where the poetry went?
Some remain, holding onto their pillows,
Others are gone,
But there sobs were lost among our silence.

In her head she kisses Mickey Rourke
to the sounds of jazz lounge
or electronica, imagining the City

sky-lit skyscrapers
hoarding robotic lives
only she & Mickey are alive

only they are worth it
their joy-ride of lust
holds them in it's grip

but only the wind forgives
the stars that hide
the love soon to be torn apart

So come, feral night!
wind blowing stars off skyscrapers
eyes growing damper
all that lost might
& power of beggars & Kings
a disconnected phone
that never rings
you in your cities' homes
letters unopened
kisses unsent
separated by winter & discontent
like gamblers conned
out of their winnings
trying not to show their feelings.