Beach Glass

Wrap your hand around
beach glass in your pocket
seafaring meteorite washed
up from another galaxy
cool lozenge squeezed
by degrees from deep
within the shoulder of a wave
eased glistening onto sand
glint of sunlight driving
a splinter through your eye  
the hollow of your palm
exquisitely matched
sculpted seed ordained
sea vast on your tongue
in holy communion
body and the blood bottled
in blown green glass
a sign cast up
from the belly of a whale
or nothing more
than a world weary
vagabond drawn
to this lightning kissed beach
fused skeletons of sand
writhe in recognition.

I am a child , I am a mother

I wonder when I will find my joy again.
I hear the wind blow
Looking up,I see the dark night sky

I am a child,I am a mother
I pretend I believe in happy endings,
I feel the pain.....so deep
I touch my collapsed veins.......

I am a child ,I am a mother
I cry about The evil in this world,so much violence and hate....
I worry about dying alone .....
And ....about dying

I am a child, I am a mother
I try to hold on ....hope,for better days
Be it so,
I am a child,I am a mother

Heavy chested I breathe
as the moon whitewashes the night.

The season is changing
and in the wind is the vapor of hyacinth
in the thick of which
the glowworms drink the nectar of night.

They have no philosophy and I have many
like while they dance just for the sake of life
my mind enveloped in obscurity
has shackled my feet and clipped my wings.

I wonder if the glowworms have a mind
that knows when they dance
they have an audience.

Maybe the stars know the same way
when they twinkle.

Yoke smiles
And twinkles from the eyes
Blend them together
Whisk, whisk, whisk
Till it all bubbles to
A perfect frothy fluffiness -

Heat some love
And tender words
Add fruit of human kindness
Mix, mix, mix
Some rinds of laughter
Blend it all well, in folds

Cup this
Into lightly buttered hands
Of giving

Then warm the heart
And put it in to bake

See happiness rise to a perfect gold

A simple recipe - the soufflé of life

Crisp outside
Molten and soft happiness within

I crawl the floor

Collecting broken glass

To protect feet of those who do not know

Do not care

Whilst rejecting offers of company

As music moves the floor.

Later

When all is quiet

I enter the night

To walk along roads alone.

A bogeyman of myth

Stalks these streets

It's ok

For I am not the prey he seeks

I am not the prey he seeks.

You owe me nothing but to breathe.
To remember how I tore my heart in
Two rendering a

Blood Eagle to stretch its wings and
Tickle our souls with its sticky feathers.
When I think of us, I see us as we were.

Other people than now.
Memories framing themselves like a
Fantastic painting the artist

Stepped back to admire, then died.
Hang me. Hang me before i hang
Myself.

Dramatically opposed to drama.
Uninterested infatuation.
Broke billionaire.

Mortal gods shaking divine hands
With decomposing composers,
Thanking them for the silence.

We were lovers and enemies, and
I'd still give my life and afterlife to
See you worship another as if I

Never left a fingerprint on this
Planet; resting as safely in arms that
Love you unendingly,

As we all lie sleeping; dreaming
In our own, stronger arms,  
Forgetting that even our loving

Is imaginary.
Death is awakening.
Rubbing the

Eyes of our souls and yawning,
We look up and smile at that which
All of this is a bleak and fleeting

Shadow of.
Plato knew.
When I wish to die, I do too.

This love is not Love.
It's all mud and air.
You owe me nothing but to breathe.