To Where Tyrolean aurochs
graze in cools of lapis prairie
, I have come,
In A Balthazar of star- led zeal,
my scarlet hunter flown from
urban zodiacs of anxious ports,
of ailing townships steaming in
their millioned yellow orders,
shackled
sick beneath the mountain's boot.



Through dim grimmiores
of softwood press
I sleeve,
In sympathies of woad to glean
the narrative of under_ storey,
bourne to earn my Eagle .
I  chance to know the trip of wind
kissed, sinuous on beaufort scales
balanced on a fingers edge to
turn October
into wine.

I will always be
that enemy
to myself.

Of loud mind
-Restless-
Of unsound habits.

An anthill scratching
at boiling blood , a
fractious, migrained, timpani
taking high- speed bends
on ruptured grips

My surface slipping
ever outwards.

Love in Evolution

There is obvious futility
that lends a potted stoop
to the crippled angles of
our misadventure.
Full- fledged in low obedience,
we are marketed as free, yet
we stumble in the attics of the lost.

What can ease the burden
of our constant measured amble
as we strive for recognition,
or survival- God forbid.
Who can say what matters
in our endless daily questing,
also if it really matters
and if matters ever did.


There's love
in evolution, kid..

Be ******, if I can find it....

The day is hallowed

  A fresco croft of Sunday shire
made Gabriel in stallion- manes,
Decanted into bottled ships
of scalloped Wedgewood
promises.

Trees
***** away in careful rows,

Well- fed matrons
fountain pruned
wear puff-ball cheeks
of flouncing gourd
that curtsey in bewildered
corns of desiccated flora
,
flawed by scorn of August forays
left as unkempt graves
.
Much more than these
stand poplars, ordered
keepers on their plated watch in
ruffled smocks of coppered
lime to tame the knee- worn
names of climate ,buckled
down the yarrowed lanes.

This day retains
its hallowed mien
as I pass through
these borrowed years

A bartered dark
of full shone armours
gallowed brooks in
shins of alder
trod the clays of stilted copse
that crest the low slung chestnut rides

To inglenooks of scuttled hamlets
strung in river- maiden's hair ,
a haven for the last ascendant
flinted from the steeping turf.

A subtle art of arcane movement
starboard cupped
in stone- pocked pewter

sparks the grailed pain
of foxes harrowed
in that sudden wood.

You, Sweet Wild, come evergreen, as
Ink-shake from the Book of Kells,
cleaned ivories of Egret vellum,
aspen mantled infidel, a pheromone
of elsewhere Islands, here to hand me
quarried gems of bold and bloodied
petulance.

In the long-room wait of
untamed reverie
you rise,
On apple cores of chalk cliff
laughter, hoist your storm-mad
urchin noise throughout the flag
of sickened orchards.

Emerald to this ruby thirst,
Bind fruitless words
to thoughtless choice


For you alone shall split my lips
cruel libertine of gorgeous vice,

Imperious,
Ephemeral

I hurried...

a hooded scrape
of epaulette through
rhododendron corridors
an exit to the brace.

All tradition is mine
so I threw her a peace sign
that caught in the ivy

both long-tooth
and way-tied

I walked....

a slow Nantucket sleigh ride
to the field where she waited,
tall,
sheep- skinned in her cuneiform

We talked..

Met, smoking by the ringers net
sequestered in the biscuit verge.

Too long into the bison grass
of Pompeii afternoons, is how

We slept