Inside this Cocoon of night
nu jazz plays competing
with Lana del Rey tracks
amidst the dim shadows
outside, the broken light
of stars & you ask
how foxes became urban
I do not know
maybe their wild soul
recognizes that like them, a city can't be tamed
entirely or maybe they're just lost
I do not know

***** faced angels in leather
swinging off neon signs
inside my head
I wanna get on that highway
& drive to
the motel of lost hopes
retrieve my teenage dreams
with a broken bottle
get me to the USA
Californian beaches
Louisiana swamps
Beatnik bums
all the things
that have called to me
in my head
not like other little girls
I never played with dolls
always dreaming of playing with fire
on the long dusty road
spitting out ghost shrapnel of Iron curtain
barbed wire
& I got lost in a Berlin subway once
& dreamed
I was in New York

love, dreams, music, revenge, rock, leather, beer
& a certain actor's eyes
is all my head can think of
tired out from rocking out to New York dolls
& watching movies all night
& yes now it's getting light
I guess there's no point
going to bed
when you've long decided
sleep is for the dead
& while you're still here
you may as well
burn that candle
fan girl
put on that lipstick
bright red
& with nowhere to go
polish your bitten nails
as if something
still matters

The clocks have gone back
& you're losing evening light
the squirrel eats whatever seeds
it can still find
the bold blackbird rustles in the bush
the crimson sunset followed
by the dazed moon,
the feral chill in the air
hits you
straight in your restless heart
as you collect wet leaves
as big as your hand
Yes, the clocks have gone back
to dark old winter time

5 a.m motorcycle
where you headed to
through the endless darkness
of the empty suburbs
yours is the night to have & to hold
sleepless & free
stirring up the wind
yet lonely
so lonely
I can feel it
whatcha lookin' for,
lil' Brother
not yours the comfort
of  dreams & forgetfulness
(nor mine)
riding through the night
just killing time
in the empty suburbs

There is no moon tonight
just the cold stars
in the unfeeling sky
yet I cling on to dreams

the gypsy caravan
I stood & gazed at
as a child
in the City museum

is still there
painted, gilded
calling for the carefree road
& in my heart

long before I met you
lived my fascination for your mysterious people
enchanters,  fortune-tellers,
some say, child & horse thieves

portrayed thus
in my Mother's Russia
- the wild people of the endless road
the people & whose fiery songs I wanted to follow-

& now, in a far off world, bewitched
by you,
I find out that your dark eyes
are that of a gypsy - Romany

& it's like fate
like D. H Lawrence
' The ****** & the Gypsy'
so why, Northener, do you not love me

like your people, I am also a wanderer
a creature of the road
a castaway with no home
than the one my heart happened to find


if you or fate somehow cast this love spell
upon me
if this was meant to be, you should love me, Gypsy
only that would make sense

take me away
let us go a-wandering
across the land, moors & hills
beautiful boy, sweet poet

do you know I once tread the winter's
frost all the night's way to town
for you, hoping to seal
my love's fate

the dark sky
above me
doesn't know how to lament
lost love

the summer of it's heart
has passed,
drunk long away
in quiet pubs

there is only this poem
poorly written -
my heart bleeding
on my sleeve

when I was eight
I saw it
sat on it's swings
mother in the shops
only when
we tried to find it again
it wasn't there
or maybe
it just got lost
amidst
the concrete labyrinth
of the city

------

walking back
through there
waiting to vanish
along with it
like chalk dust
cappuccino in my hand
years later
I saw the ghost
of myself
so clearly
as if I could
reach out & touch her

------

better we had stayed ghosts
than ever entered the present

an anthracite & brown mass undulating seagulls' lost cries
& the summertime fishermen are gone
& you no longer wear that red dress, Carmen
sifting through ***** Sea foam
for periwinkles & pecten raveneli*
no longer barefoot on the Beach
& a child no longer asks for ice cream
the trees,  rabid in their colors,
age creeps in with the increasing litter
& the stars shine coldly now
& the wind is picking up
the drifting remains of love
& packing them away
until Christmas

every single new
summer day a butterfly is
born else dies

Torn newspapers
littering the sunset
idle cranes lining the guilty sky
by the glowing harbor
Open mic night
you walk in
to the room
& no-one notices
except me
& your friend
invisible, until you read
& your voice is like an epiphany
the homeless man outside
is singing a tune
perhaps
perhaps a little child
somewhere is falling asleep
in her mother's arms
perhaps somewhere
love is being found
but between us
there is only silence
& you do not even know
that it is me
in front of you
& if you did
it would be worse
because
my ragged heart
for you is something
to be scarred

two a.m coffee
burns my mouth, my cat purrs like
a child's wind-up toy
..
bag with old writing
packed yet I'm not going
anywhere, mother
..
the nights are no
longer young either
*hush, now, don't speak