the blood dries,
to a rusty brown red
and the thumbnail,
throbs in time with
his heart.

and his heart beats,
more slowly these days.
he has left all passion
and excitement behind.
...along with youthful memories.

now,it is contentment
is the simple things,
he seeks ... and finds.

the stars above his head,
a full belly,
a tot or two of scotch.
the feel of the sand on
a deserted beach
and the roaring-rumble
of ole betsy,
the harley softail.

he rides on this road
of gentle discovery,
with a smile of grace.

now as he waits,
for the sun to fall,
into darkness.
he puts the throbbing
and torn thumb
to his mouth.
and tastes
the coppery blood.

god, ya gotta
love the honesty
of children

overhead
from the backseat

"your mum is fat"

"yeah but it's ok
she's  mostly happy
and i love her"

i was overtaken,
by a hearse,
this morning,
on my way to work.

two things, came to mind.
first,
where does a hearse go
in such a hurry....
and second,
it is always hard,
to get back in to
the workaday rhythm.
...rip... holiday mind ...rip...

there is a mote
of dust,
in my eye

it comes from
the dust bunny's ***.

i caught him, copulating
under the couch,
with two odd socks,
while the lego man watched.

he, in guilty panic,
shook and shed,
his lint everywhere....

and
i caught this bit
with my eye
the rest i collected
with my nose...

i have a wanderer's heart
always wanting to be elsewhere
a wanderers mind looking
to the next horizon...for a new and exciting view...

but alas my feet are lazy
they are settled and sodden
with the clay soil  in which
i grew
they are rooted to home and
hearth
and thus i am bound
my heart soars
my mind dreams
my feet stay firmly
placed on homeground

but one day
i will clay feet and all
travel this world...i will

and it is,
when i am with you....
i shed all my outer coverings,
take the sledge hammer
to my walls,
drop pretence and artifice,
like beggar's rags
and stand.

my scarred and naked body,
before you.....
with beautific but battered mind  intact
and heart beaten and besieged

i stand naked before you

and you......
gather me up... and love me
with your besieged and beaten heart ,
battered but beautiful mind
and scarred and naked skin
and it is when we are together....
like this
that our weary souls entwine
and provide the love
that allows us to believe
we are both human...
                                    .... and divine.

and give strength to each
other...

there is a door....
eight weathered, slats of wood.
each slat, about four inches wide.

the door has,
in it's upper-right quadrant,  
a small, face sized window,
with,a pale,dove-blue curtain.

this door, has been painted
purple,
the colour, difficult to describe,
tho, reminiscent of shades of
carbon paper, or gentian violet....
deep, vibrant, solid, regal,
intriguing....

the path, which leads to the
door,
is gently curved, across the lawn.

blocked sandstone,
in a mix of large and small stone,
the colours of,
clotted cream and aged parchment paper.
and on either side,
a mix of, blue lobelia and  
happy faced purple pansies.

the door handle is bronze.
large and ornate
and on closer inspection,
is in the form of a mermaid.

the letter slot, etched with
seashells and starfish

at my feet, inscribed into
the top step...
"those who don't believe,
in magic,
will....
.....never find it."* R.Dahl.

and next to this door,
set into the wall.
an exact replica, of what i have just described,
only, nine inches tall

do not know,
who lives,
behind this door....
but i am, so going to find out.

ten words, to sum up
this magnificent morning
                      
                      feels...mise­rly