i
a wee shaft of beam
across
a sea of chilly darkness:
dashing on, dashing long
a chain
of disturbing crispy waves.
a haunting pitch
of sirens, of winging gulls.
…then
a whistle in the dark

                    ii
i have bled.
and ever bleeding
is resurgence.
the stones are stained now
not all are stained yet.
but i can hold no more.
no more.

                    iii
to listen would have been enough
but spoke i
to deaf-mutes, clayey forms.
and every uttered little word
faded like receding undertone.
and then
conspiracy of silence,
misquotations,
sharing of once
too friendly shoulders.
a nod would have been enough,
or a pat,
or any like gesture;
they turned askance
and i fled… fled away.

                    iv
back to my chambered shell
back to my cradle
where there are many whispers.
and every fateful swing
of the pendulum
i reel and ride the wheel of fancy,
embrace false idols
like one fearful of his god
if only to escape the haunts
of conscience;
tremble at approaching footsteps,
shriek at every shadow.

                    v
i shall walk barefoot again
past leafless stumps
windborn, heated, and bowed,
‘cross an oasis grown desert dry,
past anthills now dunghills,
‘neath rapid flutter
of widespread murky wings,
past cliff edges
where resound pampered echoes,
while arched in deceitful hues
a rainbow.
…i scan the blue… i pause…

                   vi
i await a lily-white stork
or there shall be no curtain speech.

My world is not of the written word
It cannot be numbered
held captive on a so called page

My world is liquid
as sea , rain , snow or ice
It can be hot , cold , or entice

My world is cloudy
It thunders after it flashes light
My world is wrong , my world is right

There are no words that bind my life
I won't be delegated
to exist in the black on white

I will not be staved
by the limited sways
of the written words upon the page

Under a meridian moon,



That silvers the shroud of night,



My fingers map the contours of you.



And in this safe harbour of limbs



Two polar opposites conjoin.



Magnetic fields pulling us close



Navigating the other’s shores.



Taking me from valley to mountain,



Parallel lines now fused together



And the world bows down to us,



Our love bursts open like flowers in the sun.



And we float on tranquil waters



Light, so light, no orientation.



Motionless, trembling, helpless.



And within the tremulous radiance,



We return to scale.



From the zenith of my love,



I want to be a cartographer,



To represent a special concept.



And depict this phenomenon onto paper,



Giving you the legend and the key,



And draw you a map to the stars.