Well the dogs begin to bark, disembodied
on the cemetery hill. Gravestones are silhouettes,
furniture in the night. From here you can see the housing estate,
constellations of halogen bulbs and bicycle reflectors.
All is still but my mind and the sound of the dogs in the distance.

A lofted branch, a hanging thread:
when did the rope-swing become a noose?
We came down from the trees
to burn them to the ground.
A thousand signals pass overhead. Unintelligible.
Unseen. The homeless leave ****-bottles of cheap cider
and backwater in the flower bins

but no one has seen them do it.
A chapel reflects the distant street-lights, unmoving,
so that only the trees share my discourse with living.
The dogs have shut up. The signals continue.
I lost my way again on the cemetery hill.
Scars have become medals.
My heart refuses to still.

She doesn't recite poems in the darkish sunset

like golden corns dying to be reaped
she needs a hand to cut her through
reach to where a fleshless lust is still not ember.

Seasons come and fly away.

Her own poems withering
she pines for one simple nest
to rest.

I have declared a detente
After negotiating a truce.
My head is a no-fly zone;
The bombadier chutes stay shut.
I sat at the table
With my privy council,
And we have signed an accord.
Peace in my time.
Peace in my mind.
Forget, to forgive;
Forgive, to forget.
It seeps unmeasurable,
Infectious,
Air borne as a nucleur summer.

Jealousy is a loaded gun,
And you made each of their names
Bullets in my chamber.

The end of the barrel
Kisses me softly,
Between the eyes,
Where you used to.
And as you twirl them all round in a Russian Roulette
My finger quivers over the trigger.

Sweat makes it impossible to grip
And thinking back makes it
Impossible
To think forward...
What next?

You cocked it,
The gun,
So I'm ready to go.
I think...

Until, you reach out and try to save me.
Your hand touching mine
Losens my grip on the gun,
My finger becomes limp and I come back to life as
Your promises disarm me,
Your reassurance unloads the gun and
The bullets become evanescent in your kiss.

this day has to be the day
when i finally  have my say
in the scheme of things;
it's all up to us earthly beings
                    i say
to love and savour what life gives
from its veritable bounty
today is my day of harvest
and i gather into my memory bank
the swishing of the wind
the whisper of the breeze
the lulling bird songs, so reminiscent
of the first morning on creation
the sound of the coming storm
that never ends
and the echo of the wisdom of the ages
that says make your foundation strong
today i cup the palms of my heart
to receive the showers of cosmic blessings
it's been a long hard road
but i never walked it alone
there was always another searching soul
so though today is my day of harvest
i still wonder how i deserved it