sometimes
mistakes are forever
and regret is the undercoat
that primes your life

perhaps foolishly
it might seem calmer
(karma)
on the surface
to forget the original dream
than to colour it over with
shades of new intention
when all you want to do
is bleed the red out of your eyes
until the copper rusts your face
and runs finally clear;
a dried salty ash,
the only pock-marked
stain on your ****** canvas

the minimalist collector
your highest bidder

What is a poem?
A lilting of words?
An image of voices
forever unheard?
What's this picture of symbols
all ordered in lines?
What's this rare combination?
Did it take her much time?
What makes the pattern
or rhyme start to flow?
What sets it apart
from the prose or the scroll?
Is it empathy recalling
some rose-tinted dream?
Maybe it's laced in darkness
the vile or obscene?
What is a poem?
Some words written with tone?
What are these lyrics
Sung straight from my bones?

My mates
have all got rings
on their fingers
& stilettos
on their toes

I've always
got flats on
& my finger
is bare

which means
I can walk
away
my solitude

& all but three
of my mates have babies
crying their nights
away

but I have
the sleepless night
for writing poetry
& dancing

My mates
never call me
because
they're all loved up

I'm not complaining
but if you yell out Allen Ginsberg
sober & quote Dylan Thomas
when drunk & don't want to have babies

& don't mind flat shoes
& don't see love in a piece of rock
& don't want this to change
& want your nights for poetry

then you're the man for me
How about a beer?
I want to be single
together with you