The ideas we love unattended end up flowing down the drain
like excess soap
nothing gets washed and the unwashed shadow
on a shed wall lets a family of climbing vines make its home
on it and
inside it
nothing is tendered or cut in June
some hands come in May that are skilled enough
to paint around the edges without poisoning the plant
ball games give life to the court yard where the dog sleeps
and it stays alive
as long as the vines
are cut in this way.

The tattoo appears soft
but buzzing and happy to appear
slapping old choice
away
and penetrating
choosing
your compulsion and colour
in spikes of energy and time
across our arms
like an inked map
of lines and endless capillaries
where the movement
in your elbow
upon me old kitchen table
in me old house over breakfast that time
is the sight i welcome in
steering the rest of tonight out
like a perfect camera beside me desk
a dancing needle in dancing shades
as the map glides
out of my control
but in welcome jest
on the page.

The translators scanned us up and down
it was relaxing, they had a nice authority
later we flew back and ate it
not so much that ye canna recognise ****
their sound, or binary trail
more like a one and a zero
in a small chrysalis in your hand
that eats champagne, presidents
dull houses and dull cheeks
we gathered our belongings as the air port
moved
hints of shade on our sunglasses reported the sun
they called it
a certain name
as we walked

Your waist
gripped my hand
it felt like
we could go
Anywhere.

Just the upper torso
of dunes waving back to us
where we walk
all hymn: the sea, 7ish, and ourselves
the sun;
going slow
echoes of sea birds
tunnelling
above the sea
always
near home.

Inadequacy is heavy. I've never weighed it but I'd imagine
it's at least a ton.
After a while, the back becomes bent and the neck curved
and eyes twisted from the sun.
With love in our hearts,
we pass this on
to our daughter or our son
only to crumple,
exhausted and undone

Do you remember me?
I'm sure you do but do you
see through the blown glass
warped blue-green?

You must remember me
I tell myself as I stroke
the puckered corners of my page.
At least some shred of me
is lodged in your shrapnel heart.

You don't remember me
as you walk past in booted stride;
you have gone south for the winter,
I hibernate and hide.

these are the moments
        it's said. the quiet
the grass, the dirt, beneath
      me.
       the breeze a touch cold
these are the seconds the
  transient frame-by-frame
               animations slowed
a thousand fold.
       Everyone is connected
    I swear life is a game  
             of limbo of
              cat's cradle. I swear
                       these are the
            pauses
               the breaks the
                 breaths in between.
                          all the chains:
                 these chords, these connections, these links
        curled around our ankles.
                   I swear.
                  these are the moments
                       i'm alone.

A friend I am not
I do not know how to mask desire with faithfulness
To falsely turn my cheek for the sake of another

No friends have I sought
But only intricate details of a lover
Held up in brilliant contrast to the sun
Until their affections I have won
Which subdue me for a while or so
But a friend I am not, so off they must go

As sidewalks are laced with tiny delicacy in blue
They say to me, 'I will not forget you'
But what is forgotten, if remembered without meaning?
Ah, and the blue laced flowers waver, unsure
As if to remember is to abhor

Oh, Theodore
Take me to the shore
Of where I used to play

I want the gravel, and the stone wave
With the sign that read,
'Children, don't misbehave'

Foggy afternoon, you'll set sail
And when you do,
Don't you lose that red ball cap

Imagine that,
Imagine something more
Than just a photograph

Briny sea breath
Rolling off the cove,
Into the cracks of the car window

Heavy highway left behind
For small back roads,
And hidden groves

Where by itself,
A salty breeze blows