My eyes search
the navy air
but are unable to
depict the
soft features of the rabbits
loping tentatively
through patchy glebe.

I wish it was spring with
bright white fruits.
Just ripe.
Not summer, because 
in the summer we cloy 
under the fat cream trees.

I want to see you,
and the wild hares,
but the twilight's 
hiding 
its secrets from us.

I
want
to see you
and the wild hares
but tonight the twilight's
hiding it's secrets
from
us.

The lantern bunting
Is looped between the street
Lamps against the sea
It is gorgeous
When you walk among them
And see
The dusk
When horizons
of ultramarine and seaweed
collide with cantaloupe and dusty red and honey .

I'm sat in a pearl 
on your lips
Mouthing sweet hymns
Of the lemon pips
That you spit from your lips
 
I'm stood in ruby
In your hair
Hearing bitter chorals 
of beetroot stalks
That you hang from your ear.

I'm struck in amethyst 
Through your pupil
Tasting great lilacs
And smelling supple, 
Subtle lavender.

It's annoying 
That I write fullest
As the moon is breaking
At midnight noon
And when the stars
Fleck a paintbrush sky.

Annoying because
I want to be 
dreaming
In beaming
sun dials and
Marshmallow clouds
Which swallow me up 
Into a rosy pearl.

Annoying because,
Just as I do with the words,
I want to escape the day
Which I can't handle and 
ramble 
in happy
Nothing.

But this
form of
Escapism
makes me sleepy 
and the creeping,
Inescapable day
Ever more... difficult

The guilt is so great
it's gilt in gold.
It shouldn't be.
But my gilded guilt 
was gilt in gold by me.

Down the aisle of
dandelion clocks
we stroll,

Copse's line our quiet 
lane and thrushes 
flit between them.

All that can be heard 
is the soft thrum 
of their wings behind the veil 
of thistle.

A train of mist 
follows the missed 
lace daisies latticed into a thousand spiderwebs and

The Grass gloved 
in due teary dew 
follows us.