SHORE LEAVE

the sea louder in the dark
throwing off its shackles
walking into town

mystified seagulls
flying over with a caw
a sea no longer there

a tram screeching
on its points
the sea jumps aboard

the sea sat at the bar
somehow getting its vast bulk
perched upon a high stool

the sea enjoying the karaoke
singing along to The Honeydippers
eating bag after bag of peanuts

"Have ye no beds to go home to!"
barks a barman
his belly slopping over his belt

the sea happy
to escape itself
even for the time being

drunk on being
human if only for a while
the sea staggers back to the shore

THE NOTHINGNESS OF THINGS

I put my arm around you
kiss your face

the coffin makes it
awkward

even now
face to face with your death

I refuse to believe it.
Accept it.

You sweat.
A tear on your cheek.

"Don't cry...don't cry"

"See...see!" I say
grasping the unbelievaboel

But it is only an undertaker's trick
spraying mist to keep flower's  fresh

I am prepared to believe
anything but your death.

I want the world
to bloom in your eyes.

For the sky to be sky
for you to see

the beauty of a tree
a cloud

but the sky is just
a thing

a tree a thing
a cloud a thing

everything
nothing.

SNOW FALLS

she wakes
to a morning
with no reason for living

cries in the mirror
to be
forgiven

puts on her make-up
takes off her clothes
sits there & bleeds

until she can’t feel
the blood in her veins
runs cold

the razor blade
bleeds
bleeds

the cat
cries
to be fed

the batteries in her Walkman
go dead
the Rachmaninov stops

a letter
she will never read
drops on the Welcome mat

a mobile
rings & rings &
...stops

a member of
a minor political party
looking for her vote

rings the doorbell twice
slips on the ice & ruins his coat
curses

a man laughs
at another man’s joke
it’s a big laugh...he’s a big bloke

laughter
invades the square
there’s a chill in the air

a friend calls for her
(to go on a blind date)  
...she doesn’t hear

snow...
...snow...
...snow falls

THE BIG HAPPY EVER AFTER

She was one cool chick.
Dressed -  très chic.

She curved in all the right
places - if ya get my drift.

Her name was Miss Dumpty.

Claimed her father Humpty
had been pushed - taken the fall

for some Mr. Big and
got his.

I remembered the case.

His smile was cracked...yoke all over
his face..legs scrambled at an unnatural angle.

The autopsy pics
made me sick.

Said she had gone to Sam *****
to dig up dirt.

But no dice.
Sam's paid..he's off the case.

She spat the name out
with a thanks-for-nothing look.

"So. I came to you.
See what you can do!"

"What's in it for me!"
I smirked.

"Me!" she clucked
in a Linda Darnellish way.

Turned out it was
Little Boy...would ya believe it...Blue!

Jealous of Humpty's
easy said-ness and how he

got recited more often than
Mr. B. Blue.

Nursery Crime is increasing
so they tells me.

Too many modern authors
making ***** parodies..

Or in the *****
Limericks Business.

Scaring the kiddies away.
Putting the frighteners on parents.

Me and Miss Dumpty?

We're going for the big happy
ever after!

AND THERE WAS ME WITHOUT AN I

Time dawdles
stretches out the crash
to an infinity of now

casually I watch the car
crash into my side
as if it were someone else's story

car runs red light
the crash about to happen
taking...its. . .( time )

I watch my door buckle
as if an invisible monster
wanted to eat its way to me

time...finally(stops):
I fade to black
karate chopped from luggage from the back

I drink up unconsciousness
thirsty for
the oblivion it brings

the world leaves me now
even my thoughts
don't even know me

I am no more
a me
without an I

"You knocked. . ?"
Death asks politely
"No..just...passing through!"

Life swims back to me
from a distant
horizon

"Hey!" shouts Life
"It's me!"
"Do I know you?" I ask

MONKEY IN A RED FEZ DANCING TO ABBA

I watch the children play
on a sunny Sunday in Rotterdam

like a stereotypical alien
studying humans.

Their cries rise and fall
like seagulls as they swing

sea-sawing or blurring into one
on a brightly coloured turnstile.

A man looking
like a badly drawn cartoon

turns the handle slowly  of
a broken down barrel *****.

A monkey in a red fez
dances on the end of a chain.

The barrel ***** spews out
everything from Abba to Franz Lehar.


The decrepit old man
and even more decrepit monkey

appear as if they have
stepped out of another century.

I am far from home.
The day is dying.

I read from my battered book
Hamsun's HUNGER.

It's lurid cover torn
half hanging on/off.

The park deserted now
as night steals its colours.

The last words of
of this the final chapter

are lost to me
swallowed by the dark.

The barrel ***** peersists
the soundtrack to some forgotten film

The monkey red fez
fallen at its feet.

The monkey blissfully
asleep.

The music caught
entangled in branches and  leaves.

I watch the yellow lights
blossom one by one

a silhouette of houses
like a stage set.


Houses like cut-out silhouettes
a stage set.

The last lines revealed
under a passing  lamp

"...where the windows shone so
brightly in every home..."

I laugh at such
a coincidence.

Leave the book on the bench
for some other me

to discover
when the sun comes up.

And return
to my space ship.

AS THIS MOMENT THOU ART

The wood shavings curl &
curl to my father's voice

as he sings to the wood
releasing its scent

wave upon wave
of pine

crashing upon
this shore of summer

its morning long ago
forgotten.

This wood will shape shift
into a chair leg

dovetailing into
the song he sings

as the wood listens
to every syllable

as if his singing
coaxed into being

chair leg...window frame
stool or saddle.

"Oh believe me if all those
endearing young charms..."

and the wood swoons
to his planing

'''...that I gaze at so
fondly today."

Moore's melodies and pine
reaches back in time

to grasp
the moment

lost to my mind
but now returning

to its rightful place
as wood becomes chair leg

to my father's
singing.