The empty park, scattered
    The onset of afternoon rain
    In hidden symphony reflecting my thoughts
Of seemingly veiled dangers
The exposure of earthly fears
             A flowing melody
Touches my sin
Its slow isolation,
   And the gray of the sky
Stark,
Almost naked,
The inverted backdrop to my illusions
    Playing themselves against
a solitary wind the trees
    Delight in

The spaces within the silences

The dark I find myself in when I close my eyes

Here we are again
Twilights waiting,
Of ancient holds and heavy curses
Making a journey of every moment...

I think of the singular adventure that has been love
I think of the countless deaths that are still to follow.
Each touch, the precise means of my undoing.
Each taste a parable for the heart
For each kiss is the truth of illusion

My shadows seem a garden
             of eerie delights
sensibilities run naked through
    forests of dark understandings,
fierce rhythms crack between my eyes
         - the silence of worlds.
My simplest ramblings a no-mans land
accessible only by virtue and touches
                                    of insanity..
My laughter the tread of the devil
       come to sanction souls.
My restlessness, a pit.
My misery a vein of gold, rich and
                                    buried deep.
My music, a ghost piano swinging
                      from the hangmans noose.
My vision, forever caught in your smile

         My time,
        that part of the night
        only attainable by invitation

1:
The moving quietness I sit with
    A morning that begins to open
And shift, the spaces I play in; the time I melt;
    The heart I beat.

afternoon. as the day dissolving,
    then with the nites coming question
how i claim, moments, do you know its you?-
      unbinding themselves( heart's boundary)
this discovery,
waiting adventure from your
                                 yes - questions that drive my  breath
heartbeat by heart.beat (resounding time booming the universe)
I'm wrecked on the new birth that I am
       I'm stranded across the tomorrow that waits your look
(how delicious this death feels)

I want to extract
                       my heart
       (encased in a cliché)
                              and beat
                                         for beat
                            time it to your
                                          executions.
I want to extract my mind
          (superbly hidden and dancing with iniquity)
                         and join
                                 it to
                              your eyes darkest
                                                 dreaming.
I want to extract my soul
                       and leave me empty
                        (do you see,
                                 beautiful void)
                                 and let your smile
                     once more
                                      teach it
                       birth. death. a secret.

mondays last light fading the afternoon away    
          the hidden ghosts i hold dear my heart  
                twilight emotions -
     its that little spellbound star glimmer piercing new night
         resurrecting the singing, distant
              place to which my softest of touches;
              would so love to be -
                     the gentle fire i seek burning the you that i crave
             -  a vast sky coming alive as the hours die

Moonlight crazy
         on my eyes;
freeway stretching a lonely distance
        all I have
this windswept solitude
looking; looking.
echoing down my footsteps
           fading with time made holy
all I have...
All that I have;
          hold my hand and find out
          and I'll never let you go

"Loves so ridiculous'
      she told me
late one night
'Yes' I replied
'The mirror of life sometimes
        reflects our true image'
And she just laughed
and held me tighter

15 June:
“...its half way in a morning that glistens with slow reminiscences from last night. We find ourselves a respite for the hour, an oasis of sweet temper and our favourite elixir. We sit at the burdened edge; separated by transparency from passing furies; watching with rapt attention and fascination the range of creation displayed before us...We hunt down todays metaphors on clean pages; virginal expanses that congregate with a sublime notion of the art; death; logic; lust and wonder...we span serial glyphs across our vision to prevent a dissolving into the expanse before us; forming borders; signs; structures...Only to be de-constructed again and again; time dissolving; seconds inverting the quantum flux as HereNow paints the Tao over the moment...nothing-everything...we blink in and out; existence define by our presence; the reason and the way forward...delicately; smoothly; succinctly; we pick out secrets from between our worlds; Heartblood squeezed from the cries of angels; the force of supernovas; the very point of transition...again and again the universe spins us. A point – transition-how we create. This secret way. Again and again we play the Fool...again and again we play the Wizard. The tattooed skull of Intimacy grins from the ink on our backs...”

21.8.2010**
“...Sunday materialises. Its a smouldering glance across the smoky eternity of a crowded room. A lost sonata barely recognised on faded parchment dusty in a forgotten draw. Its the breeze in the wake of an angels wing. The seconds chip away; each tick a foreign language, the dissonance of grace. We're sitting, hidden, in plain sight, a wayward stop-over; a cafe somewhere on the edge of reason, but the coffees good and the service fast. We watch the people; reading signs and portents in the oblivious expressions; each grin and scowl, each glance, each distant look a codex of requite dreams; a subtle picture puzzle colouring destiny’s reverie. We join the dots. The music over the cafes soundsystem; beats with inevitable consequence. We feel deep into the heart of Journey and Moment...”

...someone once said to me ‘my nights are yours’
And for this I will never forgive them.
Naturally...

And the conversation turned
toward us
and  I thought
of the secret that wasn’t in
your eyes and of
magic and the tongue of
candle flame mocked  and
  taunted us and said

‘with one breath you can ******* out’                                              (15/10/89)

thursday
my coffees gone
I attached a smile from a stranger
my world
it opens as I
yet it holds reserve that I
also hold
It sends my thoughts
without reason straight to
the heart of us both
Thursday
I sit within my hour
all compact and generous to each minute
I  sit motionless all revered
Thursday
have I come to love you yet?
perhaps not
but lets see how you behave today

My mind dances a whirlwind
but my face, ah my face - displays my infinity
...................

the movement is inward.The rhythm of my dreams intensity echos my
laughter. For the clouds are quite beautiful
and your eyes are exceedingly dark

...................

I follow the curve
an image closes the distance
for unknown; in your movement I become a perfect song

....................

The street of missing persons
Its so quiet here
so peaceful

and the future rushes towards me with astonishing speed

....................

winter snuck in; thief-in-the-night like, when we were all sleeping.
Woke to the cold and blanketing grey,
clouds that hold fast,
time and countenance,
the morning flowing with hidden wishes, those dangerous dreams;
assassin deadly to our comfort.

as the wind, and the world one color,
seems to blow thru.
phantoms and mind , our holding reserve.

the day unfolds. The hours burn secretly, my hearts beat.
This hour unfolds me.
Your love burns secretly, distance and time who's grasp cannot hold our depth.
This moment unfolds, perhaps, as it should.
As I burn for those yet to come.