In the middle of the city stands a building
Made of glass, though you can't see inside
Like the sunglasses worn by the people on the street,
Who in their dark brown shaded world hide.

At the bottom of the garden is a frog pond,
But you can't see the bottom for the mud
Like the people bleeding from internal ruptures:
Needing healing, though you can't see the blood.

In the centre of the woodland is an oak tree
Covered up with the climbing ivy green
Like the girl who sits behind you each and every morning,
Hid behind her black-clothed metal music sheen.

Hanging in your living room there's a picture
That you don't see until you step away
Like the boy who lies on his bedroom floor sobbing,
But is the life and soul of the party in the day.

In this cataclysmic lifetime twists a labyrinth
You won't see til you use your other eye
Which sees more than the self put forward by others,
But looks beyond it; looks them in the I.

my friend did a tarot reading
and i told him that the catalyst for change
had already happened

he asked what the catalyst was
what the change would be

i told him
that i couldn't tell him one, and
that the other was just me
wandering through the woods with no map
and pretending i was still
an orienteer.

i loved you
with everything that i was, but
that was the problem:
there was nothing of me left
to be my self.

Je vois les ombres
Peut-être j’en suis
Le cœur tout sombre,
Cachée, je vis.

Mon âme s’est perdu
Mon espoir aussi
Donc sans aucune aide
Cachée, je vis.

Je chante des poèmes
Des livres je lis
Silencieusement
Cachée, je vis.

I was standing by the window,
Half-daydreaming, staring blind
Hearing winter's blustery wind blow,
Playing games inside my mind.

It had been a normal evening,
Nothing untoward occurred
Til I saw somebody leaving,
Walking by without a word.

She was dressed in summer clothing,
Nothing more than rags of grey
As the bitter darkness rode in
I could feel her deep dismay.

She looked right into my kitchen
With such deep brown staring eyes
Like she'd stepped out from some fiction
From which mystic creatures rise.

And as I looked even harder
I saw right back through her head
Wondered where this strange departer
Had a home, a life, a bed.

As I watched her disappearing,
Fading right before my gaze
I realised that her appearing
Had been but fantastic haze.

For the little non-existent
Who looked deep, with languid stare
Was in fact my mind's insistence
On creative twilight air.

"i used to dance" -
what a horrible phrase

"i used to take my body
and use it to create beauty
in a physical form
but now i don't"

"i used to hear music
not just with my ears
but with my veins
but now i don't"

"i used to feel myself
being pulled across the stage
a puppet on invisible
but beautiful strings"

"i used to see everything
in the world and in nature
as a barre or a stage
but now i don't"

"i used to dance" -
what a horrible phrase
akin somehow to
"i used to live".

It's OK, the sea is here.
Yes I know she raised the cup skywards
In a menacing toast
Of the blood that will undoubtedly be spilled.

I know she had claws
On the ends of her probing fingers
Sheathed in shiny blue.

I know the cotton was not soft
That white does not mean innocence
That even seasoned She would be surprised
But it's OK, the sea is here.

I know that when the sun rises in the morning
It rises not with you, not before you
But after you.

I know you are awoken
By lacy pillows and fishnets and flying horses
And tendrils spilling from the wall.
But it's OK, the sea is here.

I know you watch the children playing at its edge
Not with the vigilance of a mother
Not with the wistfulness of a virile maiden
Not with an air of kindred playfulness
But with a dank knowledge of what life can be
A deep sadness, a nostalgia for something never had
Or had too much.

I know you long to sit on windowsills
Bathed in blue shadow, and watch
The man across the garden
Who always turns his light on
At exactly
10.33.

I know you watch the ship drawing closer to the horizon
And think of your driftwood wand.

I know how you long to wade into the waves
Bury your feet in mounds of beach stones
And stand there for all eternity.
I know you know you won't.

You know you'll stand up,
Turn your back to the wind for the moment
And head east.

I know you'll feel its pull
Especially on the full moon
And sometimes you'll come, but mostly you won't.

But in those moments when it catches you
Unawares
In the kitchen, a scent
In the bedroom, a noise
In the living room, a movement
In those moments, remind yourself
That it's OK, the sea is here.