silver tears streak across the horizon.
bare backs shilt the weight of travellers
they can only cry to each other,
screeching for companionship - as they grow hot under a cloud  -  less
sky than later in that day when it was pouring
and they couldn't see
blitzing across the grassland when
ERCH
the pair embrace
and a toppled trolly not so far down the way-
there -
right there!
I think I hear someone screaming!
There might be survivors

"it happened so fast  -
we just derailed"

Honey-rays drizzle through the peakings in branches,
Diamond-sparkles in my eyes.
Flecks of golden sunlight pour
Landing on the shaded grass. Through the misty green
Veil of sparsen
strings my eyes to the pond before me
We lounge with the soil, haunt the declining hours
Burning nostrils with poignant air with inhales that seem too short
Lungfulls that leave
Under foliage – time is nought
Water still, our time is caught
Eve creeps red across the lawn
And soon we must pack and leave
I pack our things – as I always do – carry them still
Seeking you, I turn and shuffle
Cascading leaves, and deep breaths
Mosquitoes bred have come to feast
The shade has spread, no need for trees
I steal a glance at the static pond, its meditation poison
Its presence stable
Peak the stealing gait,
That retreats towards the blacked lawns
Its footfall fervent, its placing sure.

bland perfume! i
INSULT your un-proprietary-ship-
like behaviour of letting
your
scent
drift everywhere and anywhere in cakes and eggs - you and
your indifference that grants you ownership of roads.
you bean with legs that run amock across my dishes
   weeping easy smiles and a cool 'hey'
to the ingredients in my kitchen          - oh -
how they swoon at your cheap fancies how
they value the banal and cherish you -
the extraordinary mediocre.

my fingernails have gone missing.
I seldom have the time for them to seek
missing appendages slink down the hollow crevices
down my gullet I will climb and tear
and crunch and topple and
consume my way up mountain tops I
can feel the rain bearing on me
the obesity of the grey sky drag at my audacity
to bleed my way up
not only my path but His path
and Her method

is that I will forge upwards
and behold my dramatic irony
where my thick skin and my snotty nose
and my teary eyes
with coveted gaze I will scream

I WANTED WINGS
atop the mountain, I would have flown to.