is a hard word
to define
it doesn't always mean
sexually connected
in the physical sense

The lake was blue and silver
alive with dragonflies
the air cool and still
stars unmoving
we had carried the heat of the fields
with us all day
brushing against each other
like sun against grass
clothes we had discarded
a tangle on the ground
still held something of that warmth

The world is
a stranger place
than you or I
can imagine
we must each
cultivate
our own garden

I want
to be like
a sheet of glass
with everything
rolling off me
like rain

As she walks through the garden
her hair swings around her head
affected by the rising mist
it separates
into curls
that twist and swirl

this desire to consume you
to disolve your very blood cells into mine
we become
temporary
come
become
separate
cells
divide
subside
solidi­fy
sigh
sublime
sweat
slides

in the real and unreal realm
a good neighbour
you and i
the odd kiss
occational hug
there's nothing ****** in it
no frission
no spark
it's like the echo of something
that might have been
but never will
a good neighbour
you
and I

disarray
has more in it
than perfection

does
the
butterfly
remember
the
caterpillar

only in
a place
of absence
can i
be here

she had three lovers one an X
long left behind
(she thought)

he

still pursues her

in unwanted ways
with ****** gifts
and vigilance

the second
most recently

discarded

barely acknowledges
her

altho she graced his bed
for over a year
and he cares no more
if he ever did

the last?
and most valued

makes plans for christmas
to be with her
he cares
so much

then makes plans
to be with

others
instead

forgets her birthday
(despite asking some few days before)

"when is it is again?
so i can send you flowers
or a card"
(niether arrived)

three lovers
are
NOT
better than
one

and more

is often

less

My body
a carcass
to be sloughed off
in death
like a crab
sheds its shell
or a butterfly
it's chrysalis
finally free

Your poems
the flame
I scorch

now i'm not having *** with you
i won't let you pay any bills
isn't that the warped perspective...
i  
who always said i wasn't your *****

he visits emotions a tourist sampling foreign dishes
savouring this one neglecting another
not returning to ones that don't fit his wishes

returns to his life of no end and no start
then looks forward not back
without content
heart

got a rather large
rabbit
hopping round my garden
without even
a beg your pardon

mid winter evening
comes upon the sky
stars glitter  
earth and sky are one
everything bound
and unbound
in eternity
a gift
seek  
look to yourself
and the stars

if you turn the world
upside down
you will see
a carpet of stars

to be in love
is
as big a deal
as

the ocean is wide and
the sky is
deep

it takes me
to
the
moon

makes
me
mellow

sometimes it's  extraordinary

often
very
ordinary

visions
not auspicious
just ordinary
everyday
life
death
lessons
learnt
in retro
seeing
doesn't make
believing

why give voice
to nonsense words like
normal
average
love
and truth
none
of which
are any use

your silences
hold more truth
than anything
you say

coffee grounds
with a dash of
grapefruit
flowing
thro my veins

I have two vines

with nodding heads

they look just like giraffes ...

long necks peering in

heads curled up in loops

what does the sea know
what does the sky know

eternal indifferance to all they know

what do you know
what do i know

nothing of what they know

he didn't notice
she was dead
until
the next day

im not sure which
horrified me the most
the fact that
at aged 54 he
wanted to  “get”
a teen aged girl
or the fact
he thought
he could

and as for teaching others
you can only tell them truths
as they occur

from the tiniest of creatures  
to the furthest of stars
all things exist within each other
dissolution
and all things
return to their essence
what has come
returns
from whence it came
to chaos and the void
what was in between
is as never existed

oh fickle poem
why haunt me so
*****
just let go
I have no time
you win the war
I shut and bar
the door

skin
shrinks back
sunken
skeletal like
skull
shows thro
pink
flesh
exposed
by
sparse hair
woolen
underwear clings
to wreched
skin
shrunken back
sparse hair
clings
to
black
clothes

flowers faded
petals torn
pattern on
my carpet worn
dusty tread
frayed thread
i'll buy a new one
instead

we dice
and hold the upper hand
with fortunes won hard but
life is a dog and we are curs
with fates befit a mutt

they are
your
loves

your
infinite
loves

those first
fallen into
young loves

mine
comes
so late

a torn
old
love

dirt
real

but
still

star kissed

casual
but intense
relaxed
but exciting
a man of his word
who listens to mine
the possible
and the impossible
all in one
why do I dream
at this age
maybe that's all
there is

I have known you
but a day
and already
we have a past

over night love affair
do i dare
shock pervades
i stare
overnight
too spare

those unspoken words
that show in the eyes

infinity

supreme
ironist

i thought

offered me
no answers

merely
hollow
laughter

then
i realized

i was not
asking the
right
questions

and impatience ruled me

there are answers
given
if
you are open

and empty of self?
  
sometimes i wait
like a vessel
on the beach

the tide washes in

im kind of hoping
all this excruciating
humiliating
soul laid bare stuff
is leading us to a more honest place
otherwise....

When you opened
the poem
i wrote for you
did you see
my heart fall out

From time to time
attempts are made
to obliterate
what has been written before
and inscribe something
completely new
but the ur-writing
always shows through
and there we read
two inerasable
though condradictory truths
economic imperitive
and the hearts affections

a
mish
mash
of
absolute trash
my
poems
or
any
thing
that
gives me pause

setting
sun
on
wet
pavement

sheets
of
molten
gold

vapour rises
curls
around my feet

was a bit hot in somerset today
i sweat
cool breeze off the beach
into the shop
it rains
flowers bloom
men sigh
i cry

i can feel love
for a handful
of men
is it love?
or something
dilute
to feel this way
about 4
or 5

we do not "date"
or even kiss (oh but our eyes....)
we  
talk
laugh
sing
joke
together

i can feel love
for a handful of men
is it love
or something dilute

why do i ask

i'm looking at getting a global map up
with all the addys of everyone who responded
pinpointed somehow
just for fun
probably take awhile
anyway thats what I'd like to do
will link it when it's done

these are just words
i fling up on paper
sometimes in ink
sometimes in blood
and sometimes

in prayer

hung in black cobwebs
wrapping the ceilings
hot water cylinder
rusted to usless
old nickle plated
green tarnished teaspoons
food scraps that lurk
on ancient linolium
a sprouting of mushrooms
under the cooker
bin bags all spilling
jumble sale clothing
death a relief
only imagined

Each
perfectly
enounsed
syllable
spills from her lips
and drifts down to the floor
rustling like dried leaves in the corner