This house is a melody of illusion,
each world ends at the walls.
The windows are unnatural,
pigeons are blind to the glass.
Outside, they pull at the wires
like guitarists picking strings.
Into the electric nothing,
playing old songs again.
Break of living flickers,
the science of self prophecy.
When I meet myself in the mirror,
I do not see what you see,
the glass unfolds itself on me.

Sometimes love is sharing darkness;
azure, innocent eyes of night,
tender as waiting. Along
trails in city parks, identical
sparks of eternity. It is this,
the farce of identity, that weaves
a veil between you and me.

The unraveling of sophistry,
senseless, fractal, transactions
carved into the ice of time.

Off that windy bay wharf,
where old poets speak to lost walkers,
you dove into aporia

Morality the highest myth
dreaming conquered by Capital
shelter replaced by property
the immaterial, theft by sophistry

a bay carved from jade,
crescent moon.
horizon cradling distant storms

waves upon waves accelerating towards the shore.

Give me some other world to sip at,
this one is diluting.

This is how we dance
A row of tombstones; economics?
Market of waste, reinvent me.

Aligned, invisible, gothic
Encased in amber necklaces
Suspended animation
I will wait for years. Frozen
for renewal.

At every chance, the prospect of lightning
calms the heart.

Wherever eyes wandering  
Nose ring, pierced tongue
Sunshine on your hair

Does it comb you into immediacy?
Temperate, without charge
The uncertainty of fundamentals

Sever tone, ageless crystal
Salt residue on glass

does it outgrow you?
what you knew when you were
        talking strangers
        more familiar than thoughts

now i'd walk for miles to see a friend

cold, danger of substance
weak will of absence

it's so still in the gulleys
as the rivers run

when swimming with dolphins
lost phase, depth of oceans

recurrence of persuasion
the cavities erosion
a pragmatic extension, the neural hyper tension

grace the evening
split precision aching
remedies for aging



repetition
of the alkaline waste

pageants of pageants
fractals and hype
of faceless terrors and faceless
inside
when rain on corrugated iron
when rain and the kettle boiling

i know i have taken too much time
i have taken time from time to decide
to realise i was only wiser before trying.


Patterns of paradox haunt
the terms of all desire

tussock grass on paths
that cuts the thin skin
and sticks

and a view to nowhere

some leaf in autumn

the hope of finding