who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
thought themselves of mythology ?
processed death into the dying **** ?
blunt   blackened hope
           buttering up what god ?
                                   what mischief maker ?
: Loki the crow with his promethean nose ?

covering his crooked actions
                          the defiling of a life
  murderer
  a coward of failed coupling
congress    a night down the pub
    the gender polar pair collided
            sottish upon their union
genitals bragging through urgent gaps in clothing
but that urgency deflated
it muttered away
he felt baited
and
  humiliated    
             he committed to ******

crude amateur throttling
  a ***** sogged brick  
an indiscreet botch up
    and a stolen wheelbarrow  
        to ferry her away

'The Mourning Tree'
           despondently sifts for nourishment
its gummy combs of branches
  sashing particles  from the night solution
the tree ; a cavity
too verrucose and fleshy to whittle the winds
                                               or fife a tune
a rubbery craggle     foreign against the landscape
should   rather   make out its' habits
                  off the floor of a deep sea trench

roughing in the corpse
head first   down the gullet thirstily
skirts up and claustro
between spread limbs
to ***** puckle in the hollow tree
evicting the bird of Minerva
      ‘whoing’ into the charged sky
  blooded over
             the night blackens further
               brooding on the event

who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
married themselves to a mythology ?
force fed life   engorged within deathly seed ?
upended crime     in lieu of a sacrifice
           he offered a glass of woman
               to oder the night
he strummed teasing fingers
      raked them humming
         through the heady resistance of the air
electric creeping warmth   over the skin
                        erecting the hairs
   museum silence
   an arena    as fraught equal    between magnets
       clouds cut the moon
      moon cut the eye
    sinful kiting to mend a link
ramblings kinked
he makes sparking incantations to the gods

one scatting madman
one corpse woman


that same bled night
where the furrowed fields
            meets natures disarray
children approach this woodland border             
children with empty baked bean tins
      that they joined with lengths of string
trying to reach out their ears
    extend their timid range
       to sprites, nymphs, pucks or faeries
an older kid strikes up a cigarette
one of the younger ones squats to ***
         and be mocked

one brave girl of ten years
  runs a tin and the line into the woods  
it jerks taunt after about thirty paces
she wedges it in a tree fork and runs back
the children crowd the receiver tin
spooking themselves
eavesdropping   
        upon the hollow wisdom of small gods
            that mask their shame in the dark

For Santiago,
we danced with toros
and we gleefully played with fire.
We fought for our turns
with passion
before the sparks expired.

In each turn
we spun our bodies
like those bamboo wheels
of fire.
We set our souls aflame
and burned down our desires.

The Space—between two Seconds—
Is wider than the Sea—
Is smaller than an Atom—
Is all Eternity—

I slip into Forever
Between the tick and tock
Of ageless Time's forever unwinding
Chronoscopic Clock—

And there I see together—
In perfect Unity—
My Savior—ere and after—
His Birth and Calvary—

This love is a hurricane of fire,
a billion droplets of little things about you,
wrapped in sweetness and desire;
I never thought my dreams would come true.
.
Without warning, I didn't have a clue
How much I'd feel in such a short time,
Swept away in the blazing winds of you,
Yours to the bone as you are mine.
.
Against all odds, it seems like fate
That we should be a perfect match;
If it's a trap, I'll take the bait,
Lock my own cage, secure the latch.
.
Too good to be true, I heard you say -
My own thoughts whispered from your lips,
Embraced in bed as we lay,
Drinking kisses in greedy sips.
.
Don't wake me if it's a dream,
for I have never dreamt this well;
In your eyes, that warm gleam,
Could safely guide me through all hell.
.
It sounds cliché, and it feels so,
A bliss too perfect for real life;
All I know is I can't let you go,
The thought itself feels like a knife.
.
And my chest might burst from this,
a feeling larger than my soul,
My fiery hurricane, in your kiss
I burn up like a chunk of coal.
.