I have to smile
At Oystercatchers

Three came batting through
In straight line flight
A blur of chequered wing-brawl
-throwing on jackets
-crunching carrots
Hailing out-bound aqua taxis,

Their nutbar campanology
Disappearing over warehouse roofs.

They have places to be,
Do Oystercatchers
And times they
Need to be there

Shimmy on an Amen break
belle époque, rockstar
belly dancer.
Hitched up skirt to
crotch-ripped nets , choke
ziggurat louboutins.
A Stratocaster, glitter Sheba
on Hiroshima shadows pouring
snake-hipped ribald, scriptures
from the swelling of her breast

Kneeling, nylon bound and penitent
in a simony of rapture bought
to wet the rubber stamping of
your  cattle-battered soles
Low boneyard serotonin glows a
candle wax communion as your
henna painted carry rose
the rivers of my veins.
Your Aramaic shoe-shine boy
*** *****-slapped drug Messiah
  So Dear Mary, it is over you
that I must prophesy.
As you feed the pigs of my disgrace that
fill your head with meat and seed
I'll sup that broken bottle heat that
percolates between your open thighs....



I will be there in the morning a
renaissance scent of cannabis about
your mirrored ceiling....

Jesus wept,
Sweet Magdalen
The thought of you will
gather storms within me

It's the start of the Summer

So she will
not be needing
her coat anymore...

I will tidy her bedroom
there is unfinished
homework and washing
to do...

The plate on the floor
with the half-eaten sandwich
was yesterday's tea..
I was all she could manage,
being far too excited to eat..

Her first concert!

It's the start of the Summer

So she will
not be needing
her coat

anymore.

There is no cover to speak of
So one cannot help but
break horizons....
This hour-glass of grassland runs
through circles of these optic nerves
to impotent obscurity.

There!...
Three fields out and dangling
in a filigree of  lark song...
Lapwings!
Gust-waft synods of ruffled vicars
from Heaven's addled cashmere, asking
"Did we?..No, we didn't...did we? "

We will know no sorrows here..

Dark matter poured taut
in ebon plastic,
elegent, limber, perched on spikes.
Confined in chosen monochrome,
so lithe in gritted temper.

Full fraught on waves of jaw - smoke,
tumble nails from this wretched pelt.
Enscribe my will
on soft , ribbed, levees
Spread and buttered oysters
downed , your earthy spices ground
against my viscid grin.

Now raise the dead in frantic transport
Sound the depths of this cracked voice
Imagining....

We will know no sorrows here.

Called toward familiar compass,
Called by natural order of a rising vernal rage,
that girdles, as a talon grip, on through the songs
of lust and duel that joust above the battled ground.

This restless tread that aches to dance, to lure , impress,
now,tears its clothes to feathered crepe, explodes in sabre - rattled starts,
A host of self forgotten parts , writhe, steered in Vitus throes.