We read each others minds

The waves
of thought
the way they peak and break

roll across us

But I never drown
never come up gasping

Only glide on surface glass
watching the black depths
slide past beneath

And when at last
a shore is reached
the tell tale breakers
thundering in

I will phosphoresce

to leave

a shimmering narrow path
upon the endless blue of you

Waiting at the lights
I see
a young woman at the bus stop
crying

Her hair
whipping in the promise of spring
a chill wind scented with cut grass
and bloom

She stands
distraught
surrounded by traffic
turning this way and that
seeking privacy
on an exposed corner

Her face disolves
the skin and bone
receding
sloughing off
to expose the rawness of pain
how the nerve endings
shudder and shy from the sun
how the searing
can only really jolt electric
when the cool spring morning touches them

I drive on
when the light changes
watching her fade
in the rear view mirror

Our farewell
will be as ambiguous
as every other encounter

Your cell phone
pressed lover close to your ear
whispering the
beckon of Dallas
and all the promises they can give
laid out in a tongue of caress

The party is winding down
chips scattered on the carpet
crushed in

A spilt wine
stain
ignored too long

now a permanent reminder

Your body
curves an S
as you lean against the counter
laughing into the phone

We will not look at each other
yet

Your body emanates
a wave of heat
that strikes hard against
pliable me
bending to you
a genuflection
of bowed will

If I do not look
I cannot cry out
the words torn and born
against all resistance
a baby birthed
in a back alley
and screaming for sustenance

If I do not say farewell
you cannot leave

But now you are
gathering yourself
eyes downcast
so as not to burn me
you kiss others
cheek peck
promises of contact.

Lips warm
yield
a bended knee
of submission
from me

Going Home.



Nothing could

would

stop us

The sagging limbs of night
heavy against my back

Darting through the blur
cars sped to destinations
beyond the reach of my comprehension

We were coming home
through Michigan rain
wind driven through the windscreen
soaking our joy with
sleeting responsibilities.

Your hands
creating a vessel
resting ceramic around
a swelling belly

Beauty is the sound
of vomiting in the morning
my hand
a conduit of care
resting against your back
soothing sounds issuing
from my throat
to float up and against your fear
and drive it back down

We are concave
smooth sides
hewn from black onyx
slicked with humanity
awaiting the font of child


And nothing

could

would

stop us.

Picnic

The Cabernet
warms

The buzz
mingling with bee drone
memorising the petals of the rose garden

Blanket rumpled beneath us

The kids are stepping out
the careless paces of
Gods dance of childhood

the running game
the leaping hiding
dodging laughing complexities
shifting the shape of sound
till its rebounding back across the park
in tinkling silver bell song

And you are warming in the sun
blood thinning
and singing beneath pale skin smiles

I consume your laughter
till fullness swells my belly

I enhance sensation
with a soft kiss completion

We all rode in on a roan

one horse wonders
galloping full pelt into the
disquiet


Why hand me the day?

What would I do with it
but turn it into something tawdry

a cheap mp3 version
tinny sounding and clunky
compared to the vibrancy of its
original form

You have never lost that sheen

the belief system woven around
my dogma

And though
I cannot stomach my own propaganda
anymore

the pamphlets
are still floating down around us

A rain
of delusions

Your day

stuck to my fingers

I have misused the gift

the dream handed me
when I was seven
and could still fly

soaring into the future
with no wings to slow the glide

Tumbling into distortions
allowing the disarray
to alter my passage

I was naked and believing all the rhetoric
fed by the writers of children’s books

How it always ended up alright

How mom and Dad would find me
in the teeth of the Dragon
just in time
and snatch safety from despair

But no

the Dragon bites like a bitch

and no one came

no one at all.

I wrote once of strangers


How they would all be looking
with that devil-in-the-hedges
rough round the edges stare
white eyes of bright omen skies

They would talk to me
and my replies were a balm
they smoothed into their skin
soothing the aches and pains

I became
auto erotica
with a face and no name
something to stimulate the senses
dulled by time and the easy action
of life-tides

And when I became husk
desiccated dry
the empty of a male mantis
sucked and shucked oyster shells
left haphazard on the plate

I finally understood.

You will come back

or not

as is your want


The reticence of today
is no consequence
I will bend it into the shape I need
regardless of protestations

I have gathered the sun
the moon
and all the bodies celestial
into the cupped fingers of my hand


They spin and shimmer
against the whorls of my skin
dancing cool upon the ridged flesh
rotations create
geometric patterns
of random disorder

I'm waiting for you

to ask for the sky back

We went to see seal rock
the hammering forties
slashing against a grey coastline

The surf
bursting apart
flecking the shore in foam
for meters up the beach
hanging in the battered branches of the tee tree
lying contrast on the dark rock
swilling in the thrashing waters


A dirtied salt laden snow speckled landscape

We stood into the wind
leaning against nature

You pointed out the spot
where they had found that sailor
a battered bloated half submerged vessel
lolling in the surf
the foam
wreathing him

His eyes
given to the sea

They say his wife
tore clumps of hair
and wailed like the wind over the dunes

The rising dipping howl

From Russia it surged through the waves
and pushed our jumpers tight against
our torso's
jeans flapping behind our legs
eyes watering from its anguish

I'm rising on the wind of sound
filling my dented skull
with music
throb
beat
drowning out all the rest of the world
in drum bass lead blissful crushing noise

I cannot hear beyond the howling
begging of the voice

I wail
lost in the song

scream
an underscore to the soaring ache

There is nothing else
no sight nor touch
can reach through

Only the pain of reverberations
and crescendo’s
taking me and breaking me into
chorus and lyrical destruction

And it feels
so fucking potent

the loss of self

the damage

the dissolution of a soul

Dissolve me on the acidic
taint of your chords

Shatter my reality
in the four minute blistering skin
of scale and wailing

And for a moment
the crowding is gone

To see beyond

here and now

the lessening somehow

And still

all there is

is sound

the barrage

remorseless

and tender

Covet me and fuck me

with the lick of a guitars flaring

flame

I will never be

never was

the same

Canon creates beauty through the
hands of some media fuck head that got
it right for a change.




Jose Gonzalez has released the song
the colors
sailing down San Francisco streets
bouncing towards me

My mouth
open
my hands
empty

His guitar
is strumming the city awake
the desolation of civilization
a hum

The colors
come
to
into
before and beyond

I am
magenta
and amethyst
teal and beige
a sparrow wingtip black
and a seal alabaster fur

I am
tiger stripe orange
and wervyn ebony
a giraffe in pale brown and white
a Zebra mottled
and afraid

Jose sings
and strums
till I am complete

All the shades
of you

all the shadows of us

all the colors brought forth

in an ink jet splash

She never carried the thought through

only allowing it
to thread into the parted weave of tomorrow

Her hands are plaster
brittle walls
whiting out horizons.

She listens to her mother
nagging into the phone
the words rebounding against deniel
to spin away
break apart
and fall
lessened and distorted onto the carpet
at mothers house.

Later
she will strip down
to yesterday
draw the silver thread of a river
around her shoulders
and await the shiver of dawn

I have brought you offerings

Incense and myrrh
Frankincense and foils of white horse

To lay at your feet

the small white sculptured marble toes

with veins of gold
running random patterned brilliance
through the flesh turned stone

I prostrate myself
and genuflect
palm out

palm down
supplication a balm
to soak in

skin oiled gleaming
reflecting light streaming
from your caress

You tell me secrets some days
how
the nature of stars
is changing
the way constellations
dance
and disappear
only to re emerge
from the stones
or the carved rock buttress

then issuing from
the depthless caverns

You tell me

the obvious

how the Gods

have forsaken us

left us to wallow and wander

the desert of forty days and nights alone

without the sibilant whispers of hope

to sustain us

You tell me

worship

is not in my thing

and leave me

a crazed shaman

stamping beneath the canopy

of eternities frozen embrace

There are a thousand heartbeats
thrumming next to my ear

the pearls of words
the cast of a stone to ripple against the soft press
of your flesh

We shed intentions
pretentions
swept away on the currents of sex
and sentiments shared

I'm leaning on you again
the press nothing more
and nothing less
than everything you ever wanted
and nothing you have ever had

Goad the rise of my skin
into the sun
I strive
grow and stretch
till we are shaded beneath my desire

And the heat will still reach us
as the night beseeches us to come closer

A thousand heartbeats
pressed against my ear
calling me out of this sea shell haven
the fallen raven
swooping one last time

Just this once
we shall write for joy

We hear the world
in three colors

We see your pain
in seven white sails
on a far horizon

We know you cannot
make it alone

And we are
one man
one child
found deep in the thickets
of rain forest green dapple mystery

And we are
so far from home

Watching the sky for a sign

Finding coins beneath leaves

Setting the record straight

Letting rain infuse us
as the changing landscape
confuses us.

And your ship is close
so very close
to shore

So we write for joy

A worn child’s toy
lies on the dusty ground
wrapped in chuckles and
a thousand different dreams

A wrens blue eggshell
empty on the bracken nest
leaving promise and a sad farewell.

A day shorter than we thought
but stretching beyond tomorrow

And we can hear you
jumping ship before she
slams into rocks and sinks

Safe within the dripping fronds
of our ferns
we peer out at you
and wish you safe journey

We write for joy
on reams of plain paper
we scratch moments
and indigo impressions
knowing full well
tomorrow
the page is empty still

You have almost made it
alive
and we are shedding tears
on rich loam
still singing
and bringing joy to silence

Tears


It's fading away

the early warning
of another grey morning
lost within
the scent of your breath

Someone is crying
a soft falling
making the day
blur and shift

Life is painstaking

a watercolour

warped by the sun
then left to run
in the rain

Tears for wishes
each one shed
another promise
spoken and broken
in the same breath

I will paint you
in turquoise and green
a woman
woven of tears
free to leave
but bound to stay
by sadness and a lack of solutions


I have kissed you

tasted the rain
wet leaves
dripping
muddy ground
slipping
beneath me

and though you remain

a canvas painted in clear water

I see you within the colours not seen
a silhouette
beckoning still
beckoning till
I join you in tears.

I stole inspiration
from your throat
took the rhythm
a soft contralto
and swallowed
till your voice
issued from my lips

You have always
been brilliant after 5.00pm
somehow
the shifting weight of the day
slid free from your skin
each evening
and left you naked and beautiful
a vessel to release precious
droplets of superb vocalisations
a spreading splash on the page
then
on my upturned face
a font to fill my eager mouth

I the echo
and
you the words
meant for evermore

I drink
deeper than I should
fill my swelling belly
till I cannot hold you in anymore
and then

and then


I the echo

you the words
meant for evermore...