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THE LONG HELLO

I left
my memory
in a run-down hotel

all damp patches
& peeling
plaster

who am I?
wish
I knew

maybe I'm a salesman
traveling
in lady's underwear

naw...that
don't
seem right

I looked into the blur
that formed & unformed
before me

constructing
in my mind's eye
a Hollywood smile

that's all stage set
nothing behind it
but...fakily real

she had an Art Deco heart
she wore on her sleeve
bit frayed 'round the edges

and a laugh
that lingered
like perfume

'Hi, Petal! '
her lopsided grin
was all femme fatale

she spoke in Film Noir
I knew
the lingo

'Remember me? '
she sighed softly
as if caressing herself

remembering
me
caressing her

I sure wish I remembered
it in intimate detail
I'm a stickler for detail

this broad was slim
but with curves
in all the right places

if ya get my drift
her laugh was all
lightness and lavender

'Good...good! '
she cooed
'I see

your *******
is at least
listening!'

I involuntary
covered my crotch
with both hands

as if I was naked
I wish
she was

her curves flowed
like very runny honey
over the back of a spoon

trickling on to
the tip
of a tongue

she was strictly
yum as in
YUM!

then she went
all Cubist on me
as if
she'd been badly drawn
by that
Picasso artist fella

I felt like a 2-D drawing
as she approached me
in 3-D

my conscience found
its voice down behind
the back of the couch

it wheezed and wheedled
like it was Peter Lore
'Ouch! ' I ouched.

'Ok...ok! '
I announced
in a too loud voice

'I believe
I know...
....who done it! '

'It was...'
I stammered.
'It was...' I stuttered

'Cut it...Cutes! '
she snapped
like knicker elastic

'I guess we both know the score.'
she somehow contrived
allowed her dress to fall

to the floor
where it pooled at her feet
like a green silk puddle

'Hey has anybody told you
you look just like *** a chelli's
Birth(I burp) of Venus! '

'Cut the wise cracks Jack...
it was the drink
...done it! '

'You just had
one bottle of Baileys
too many! '

'But now...
it's finished...ya hear
...finished! '

she threw the bottle
over her naked shoulder.
I listened to her

in glorious
Technicolour hangover.
She poured her body

all around me
like jelly
in a mold

'Hung over sure...
but
I think I got the cure! '

her kiss was like
the last page of a ****
good Who...dun it!

finally falling
falling
falling

into place
I kissed her
lovely face
BAREFOOT

I follow
the road
of my father’s voice

journey with him
along white road
over green fields

barefoot
to school
& back

(shoes if at all
worn only
to church)    

picking up
the cuts & scabs
stubbed toes

his going to
school
would entail

in the early years
of the 1920’s
only so much

history to me
real
to him

his toes
knowing the wind
in the grass

for what it is
his toes
clasping a rock

fording a stream
Irish & poems
bubbling through his head

babbling along the tongue
words thrown to
those lost summer skies

startling a blackbird
spouting his poetry
with poetry of his own

(3 miles to school
and
3 miles back)    

his mind a skimmed stone
dancing along a river
over unforgiven stones

thorns attacking his feet
with undisguised relish

the vehemence of glass
glinting greedily
for the next footstep

the menace
of the twisted rusty nail
& its treachery

betraying the next footfall
as he walks over
the unremitting

years
into my eyes
wide with wonder

listening to him
tell of himself
as a little boy

to his little boy
the me of then
my eyes now

following
the road
of my father’s voice

as it wanders barefoot
through my tears
& memory
THE WHO OF WHAT WE ARE

the fog strips us
right down to our
voices only

leaves out the shape or
the skin we're in &
even what *** we are

we lose society's
references
how it elects to see us

stumble around in
this cotton wool
& somehow now

we re-emerge
our selves
tentatively again

you most definitely  
woman
I made man again

white skin
embracing
black skin

nothing now
but
love
THE VERB “TO IS! ”

You ask me
politely

“What please
is the difference

between the verb
“to be”

& the verb
“to is”

“? ”

I laugh.

And you frown.

Pout.

“Laugh please
not at me! ”

“I have the desire
to learn learning! ”

“I’m sorry...forgive me! ”
“I do too! ”

And today
you give me

the gift
of the verb

“to is! ”

I hating
to correct

your lovely
words

when I love
what they do

teasing the language
(fire from embers)

as they glow
anew.

Always & forever
my love

is the
verb

“to is!
TAKING BACK THE MOMENT

the past sleeps
like a giant in a palace
made of years

a moment...thought
lost for ever
sunbeams trapped in a room

they flick and dart
all over the ceiling
goldfish in a goldfish bowl

memory dares
to waken the sleeping giant
demanding the sunbeams being goldfish

from somewhere in the palace
made of years and tears
the Past produces the moment

"Here...take it!" the Past rasps
begrudgingly giving it back
I take the moment and flee

far far
into the future
where nothing can touch me
THE MOST HUMAN THING THERE IS

I watch intently
in my mind’s eye
an ancient Egyptian

scribe take up his pen
and write:
“My heart is in balance with yours.”

and laugh
at how
not an iota of love

has changed
since that then
& this now

through seconds
or centuries
Love flies

through hieroglyph
to cursive
English script

Love
the most human thing
there is
THAT LONG LOST CHRISTMAS NIGHT

our "I LOVE YOU!"'s
journey through the frosted air
dissolving in each other

we watch our words
travel across frosted space
our eyes hearing them

the words hung in the air
there
for all to see

our words
strung out upon the night
Christmas decorations

we like two dragons
labour to build
one snowman...one snow woman

we speak in speech
bubbles...word baubles
decorate the night

our words frozen
in memory's light
that long lost Christmas night
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