They try and make
Their subtle gazes
As quiet as possible
They're in love
And know things about each other
Whispered in ears
In the crowded morning sunshine
And secrets shared in the shade of the afternoon
Tepees made of duvets in the shadows of night
Lovers be ******,
Because they are granted the wishes
Of hopeless God's and Goddesses.

the silent tress hold memories
of winters sweet melodies

search high and low
and in every fox hole
where oh where.. can she be?..

oh feet that quickly flee
who then holds your stories
or keeps you... in times keep

but the trees and stones
that stay beside roads
you gave a glance to safely keep
but in every time
of past and new
they pass by you
without speaking speak
beginning , end ...old and new
oh what stories you doth keep

We came upon slowing traffic.
Inside the bus
Standing passengers were thrown
and grips tightened
as we edged forward across
the unfinished road.

We passed the sun-glassed
occupants of cars and busses
and the rolled-up sleeves
of lorry drivers who's
tanned arms hung out
of every window, and
who's fingers tapped
an unheard tune.

I stooped to stare at the
dancing distance of  
the baked tarmacked
highway.

Our eyes stung and wet
The metalled road blazed.
Our approaching gaze silent.

Gripped passports Identity papers
rosary- beads
-Letters of transit -
not needed;
The border did what most
borders do-
and shrugged us through.

Laughter becomes all languages.

Later that afternoon,
I sipped from the glass I held.
Jez turned to me and asked,
"Is this what it's like to be drunk?"
I smiled as I slid my wine towards her...
...
words and foto T Carroll..

i am flawed
but alex this is all we are; our mothers' melatonin

the reflection of the sun in your teeth leads me to believe our time is up
& the softness of my thighs against your hand stops the world from spinning blue

In the long afternoons
when I'm just alone,
at my place, with no one but my soul;
I think hard to answer stuff,
stuff that are useless to be told.

In the long afternoons,
that are dimmer than of the dusk.
But I'm active then and I just suspect my luck.
For something strange that happens to me,
It leaves me alone with a shock.

In the long afternoons,
for the useless things I think,
apocalypse, fame and my thoughts that link
to an outer world unknown to everyone.
Rainbow sheep and how the world shall sink.

In the long afternoons,
for the tragedic songs I sing.
The sighs I swear like the death of a king.
I daydream about stupid li'l things
but it's you that I think more about, and that thought's not leaving.

The sun goes onward, rising higher.
Our bright beacon, the balloon of fire.
And little do these worldlings see,
Afternoon will go, the night is soon to be.