you never could get along with those nocturnal visitations
which try to lull your reason and make soft
reality

inside trappings of my broken sleep, the gallops of your petulance
gets traction in the volleys of your tirades                                      
and I wear your influence like a triple metaphor on ******
highly magnetic and so giving


(so, do I have to duck each time I wish to speak?)


the sun sets slowly, in defiance of the sky
and slyly seeps its blazing colour trail
evening birds come to roost inside my closing eyelids
and there, they wrestle throughout the night
jostling for a space they believe is theirs
they bite and peck in restless dispute
till they find rest in the niche above your dreams


on the vine, grows dusty pods -- cache of independence
and such cracks in the ceiling may prove useful
in the end


it's in your veins where your fractious genius lives --
the whispers of my wishes race along the highway of your blood
chase through your arteries
dart into the mind and back to the heart, where they hope to reside
but it gets a decorated invite card to kindly leave
but you don't see me feel it
(the tiniest embossed part upon the reverse is a modest
ilu)

gentle soul, art thee
in folds of godskin
bring forth the truth
forsake not the heart

revered mind's uphold
calamitous extent

oh, gentle being here
cast aside doubt
bring you inside (bring you inside)

gentle waves
gentle smiles

how gentle becometh
the godcloth surrounds thee

I could toss my cares over a rainbow
Let it hang there a while and dry out its sorry behind
As I squeeze some slices of brackish time to research the deliberate contours of your patience
Swerving its way past concealed match sticks
Bend at the so definite behest of none.


Slurring backwards
Tentative graphica
Huge baskets of winding fun
Sketchy image pencilled in, for now
Details come later in -------- a terminal
(hopefully)


Charcoal drawings offer the sweet sound of breaking cumulus and sudden wax of orange
come to life on a sullen bed of love apples
shapes are p-p-p-pulled to painstaking proportion
deep lines stippled drastic
dragged along on unwieldy wagon strokes
       Art never really tastes ink but celebrates ephemerae
yet trapping half understood and beautiful pictures
beneath mocking glass panels
smudged with such deep knowinggggg


You can do something to stop this **** blood impasse
beset more so with counterfeit decline
blind bull rage too ready and bloodthirsty acts bay
half crippled and on its knees, how your land cries
see the (over)spill of rightly invective remain unresolved
  

See the deprivation at the lake
all gall thirsty, yet none to drink
just a hapless event smarting  
On a downward cyclic turn
no more will sing voices when old gripes unheard
scream in the long, red lines bulleted across that holy floor  
albeit the wicked general holds the trussed up cards
he won’t bother scraping the dried salt of kin later
it grows ever more in sad mounds on the little green book
awaiting missing miracle


inflections of a restless mind
within the ***** creep
retorts from peerless craft forge  
entangled moans in briars and sundry
resort to savour within disyllabic silence
  
Can you but count the ways in which these coins of seeking do ****** across
an afflicted floor of red lines to an exculpated heart, un(cor)rected ?
Unprocessed miracles are items of constant bewonderment in duress living

Your name is engraved on the underside of a tree I’ve yet to climb one day
I step out my pod only to see you
A glow upon your forehead calls my name
No words in this sunken land
Where music tones are breathed in
A darkness fall upon the sand
The like I’ve never seen


Heavy heart stands alone as the chosen leaves
In sweet embrace, it all comes clear in new pods
Oh no, now all see how light is dimmed
So easy to turn their backs on it
But surprise steps into a prism coat of redness
To lead the way back to joining the one




All witness the beauty of highest sacrifice

You’ve taken off your headlight to ensure
I don’t get left behind.

mixed stirrings
hard to place this constant ire rising from ashes of a fire not quite, yet felt
stir into that melting *** the sum of miscellany unknowns
all wrought from the unsweet gifts of quotidian sighs
no need to wrap the present, baby, for it's already here
twinkling in the birth of every moment
we hardly know it nor acknowledge
so busy wrenching pain from secret places the darkness loves to keep

yesterday brought unsought smiles of outer space dust
then space in pushed into the blue spit bubble of crayfish folly
and fear frozen into place on cauldroned cheeks
as tendons pulled fury tight on a cocky bounty's cry

I want to carry that sweet loading joy
which scorches my receptiveness in astringent non reciprocation
I die to please that spangled energy so much
which holds back its cagey kernel, far from my prying hands
I kneel to take in out of the blue blessings
which fall slapdash on this preoccupied trajectory, forever waiting in sozzled hope
I take the package you flash and cast heavy
which leave sweltering whiplines across my insides
all fine, all just a fine melange

beneath your magic fontanelle lies a sunken cache
there are painfully few privy to that miracle
I live in hope of neither looping nor taking
but just to be happy to bear witness to the shiny array of your gem stock

you are like none other, inimitable and hard gemstone (inside)
a mix of purity stirred in crazy, along with star shine and fire sparks
*my angel with honey eyes

welcome

she welcomes my energy inside and gives me tea
calms my busy light without a single word
smiles at my bright aura
a tabby ginger cat purrs on a gingham cloth
blue Delft plates in a row

this was a time with no fuzzy
no noise
no waste
no haste




dimming of all goodness

a woman’s head rolls on the fine sifting sand
dry and warm
a rapier juts forward, pierces the guts of an old man
who carries a child on his back
there’s a red blanket what flies on the line
soggy and now,  it’s hard to tell whose blood drips so

an elongated horn is blown from a desert hill
nobody lives in the mountains of Miranda anymore
her ghost has found voice in the echo of the brambles
her secrets still buzz in heavy hives of long ago
discovered and ravaged by trusted traitors
now hanging in clusters, newly unfound
dried corpses also hang (unmolested) in bloodwood trees
where every trace of gall is let flow in kino



the blood of Miranda flows on**

she of terminalis
lives on eternal
in brook and vale and bush
in veins of progeny bee
and also
in the crickets of the field

superb partaking of private delicacies
yet always keeping track of the skyline
keeping senses alert, never fully falling

I allow myself to get hurt each time that skyline changes
not because I enjoy the pain
but there's just something about you I'm not willing to lose, not that easily
so, I swallow ******* and suppress the ego and take the whipping words readily
whatever it takes

there may come a relinquishing moment when I can just give and let it all flow
free fall, like a kite almost

but for now, when shadows may come and place arms round the heavens
****** sun rays from abode and kiss the air into a messy cloudburst
and leave the sky taut with approaching footfalls of fiery thunder claps

I take it all and want it no other way
I accept the paradox fully
the pattern has been set
it is consistent

this mega beautiful skyline over me hovers so discreet in plain sight yet blind to all
I see the veins on the back of your hand, and blood veering sideways towards impossible thoughts
yes
a line upon the horizon tells me never fear
a stringent fire walk simply tests the mettle coil
discoveries in life confirm nobody is alone

as deep and low as it gets sometimes
the highs, oh! the highs outfly the roof
take what you need from life now and from me
yet take your sweet time
until the day I see your eyes reflected in that skyline
and your lamp beckoning on, into this frame

your skyline tastes so good