From whichever angle
the palace rises
She knows a wonderful way
of hoping for
Face to face with
the people the pleasure
her failure
Veering away from blame,
angst, diffidence,
She knows she's not nice
She hopes for them - read: him -
a maximum possible joy
a maximum radiant days before she -

The room is cold 
dirtied by the empty 
cups, full ashtrays, he's
never been tidy but has
just let go today, himself, 
her last morning. He's
trying to find his way
piles of post, books, empty
paper over the table
He's lost his contacts,
his phone silent since
no one cares. She doesn't
so why so angry, hopeless
The thought of doing
anything about anything
just riles him beyond
imagination. 
The memory of being 
happy about happyness 
just stifles him beyond
inspiration. 
He knows it's his fault
too even then
even now no aptitude
to bring his love to her light.

I really thoroughly enjoyed
our time, our together,
your being around,
your helping me out
I really thoroughly did
and do, still
I need to run and go on
an adventure which should be
my own, without your time,
your being there,
your helping me out
I'll be leaving my past,
your yours, while
justifying my moves to
leave this love and all
I'm terrified though
tears trickle down
my face into your pretty hair
They dry and leave
leaving a trace. I hold you
tighter yet feel the relief
of leaving, accepting
this love and all
has to end, in the end
I'll be back for one week
only so we can really thoroughly
cloud and end and
the tears, the pretty hair
hit me at once. They dry and
leave, leaving no trace.

on a Sunday with my dad
to the video store for more
Eastwood and Bronson
as well as a bit of Bond
as every Sunday we are
tomato soup and hot dogs
melted cheese with mayo
on top. Heater high, grey
days gone when with him.
Practically every week the
film boy told us we'd already
seen that one. How we were
convinced that not what'd
spoiled the mood anyway.

he wears my favourite blue
and drinks his favourite beer
he is clapping along to that song
as always out of tune --- loud
and laughing because of sunny
as always. for ever. my dad.

I don't know what he thought
or wanted to accomplish
coming over to my shop
and bringing over my mail
of course
to enlighten me on her hair
to elaborate on her curves
some ****** nerve
you have to go against my wishes
to bother me at work
to hurt me all over and
again.

I never thought you
could grieve over a river
love to walk beside it
still leaving it for the ocean
and then...

I never thought you
could grieve over a city
love the illuminated streets
yet leaving it for the desert
but then...

I never thought you
could grieve over a house
feel at home and with you
still leaving it for a suitcase
because...

You never thought I
could grieve over a sofa bed
how I enjoyed settling with you
but I left you for life

Two recollections and one thought
Coming up and making sense
One: i'm little at the window
knowing there's something out there
engaging hopeful tempting valuable
it sings out from the clouds
but i cannot yet hear it
Two: i'm 24 work is done weekend
starts and i'm alone truly at this age
there's an antique market and the groceries
but i cannot but think
One: is this my life?

I like to sit on a terrace
sipping the afternoon away
listening to others' heart-to-heart
Maybe sit in|maybe not.

Chats range from tube rides
to the colour of our Thames
to their dog not eating well
To views on life we must have.

Sun fades and all still nice
my books help me focus
turning life into questions
Questions take on words.

Outside in the green sea
Alone among people
Now is then later
Later is now then.

I cannot decide.

can be friendly
all day
every day
if kindness has a definition
anyway

Ice cold rain dripping down
the bathroom floor, the chairs
on the balcony empty and
grey grey clouds over the ocean
impede her going out sides always
November means gray rain
and unrest, a coldness as a
distance from him, them,
the palm trees at least not waving
breaking the sky, into disarray her
thoughts will travel disquietly
unappreciated and loved
in the dark in an empty room
in the light surrounded by
happy goodbyes. Fall.

He said: "You drive like a bloke"
I said: "Thanks".
To boot: "Should this supposed to be
a compliment? At what point did I turn
and stayed in the 50s?

Who am I to keep you
away from her
The gifts mean nothing -
the trips for business -
Well it's only platonic

mmm-hmm...

Pain but I can't unfold
distrust but I play delighted
To look in the eye and -
high-stake it all is but -
Something I can't overlook

non-unapologetic...

Bathing in the sun
for New Year's
Happy Lucky Love
and then you really
with her at the bar
Unrealistically courteous
approachable even
So, ran out wouldn't
be the first time
So, bumped my head
neither a first
You didn't look
follow hence pushed me
away for a happy new year

A safety fallen away
just when I turned 27
One so intrinsic - sometimes 
even without me kenning it
growing up in a funny family
full of people
close at a distance
The things I cannot do alone
unapparently while I am so
sweet with arms folded
even maybe wish to be
Travelling to fight not flight 
intuition a funny concept
because I do know I do 
feel
The city affords an input
you yourself cannot again
looking for it while living with 
so
that I can be mistaken 
wrong turns are human
in that one person
or more for the distance
in that closed circle is -
by whom actually?
Hold maintain 
Choose see explain
Value treasures take
A serious airiness airy solemnity
Choose was it - again?
I got ill
just when I turned 17
Complicated in words and body
Keep peace emotions 
outside sun
My sense of water is
the max unclouded 
intuition I own

The wind howls, the sun burns
and the red dirt whirls around
us to a city girl it cannot
come to be more romantic
to a beach girl more bluer
to a deserted girl more remote
A broken heart mended
A searching soul soothed
The dogs look at me faithfully
knowing their walk
So I leave my book
Amble for the rocks and the moon.

the hardest things
I did
was waking up in
the morning
a rained out Saturday
telling you
I cannot do this
anymore
I cannot talk sit watch
be with you
anymore
the next hardest thing
I did
was sleeping in
this big bed
alone
for a first night in a row
of years after all years
with you.

Deadlocked
So, so cold.

My new middle future
has started
in the blue of my night.

We are in very dangerous territory
they say when compromising on
Brexit and possible -who knows-
other exits deals they call it
compromising our lives, the price
of food and transport
the safety of refugees and people
on streets. The hunger, the heartbreak,
the fear to make decisions.

There is no time
It's like in a play where
the wet streets and architecture
the soles there
career and zoom 
But I -

Nothing but time
Or like in a fairytale when
the leavery and gray rain
the fields there
rustle and unwind
Yet I - 

keep walking here 
being part of - but at a 
distance, playing there
I like it like that
And then I
leave.

it seems she's especially capable
of building relationships
staying in friendships
or acquaintanceships, as you wish
when it's long distance
meeting up once a year
and merely just speaking
over the phone or via Face
it shapes her anyway
and creates a safe distant closeness
or a very close distance, as you like

You always say
Ow well and I
appreciate that
But you know what?
Such a coping skill
I'm just intrigued
also a bit sad, I guess
The phones, the fastness,
a vastness, non-communication
and commuting, I guess
I think of you yet do you think 
back at me? It was on
the radio they said to leave
politics to politicians
The world is unjust, amidst
rumours and facts, and
will always be so try
do the little things
as little as possible
for the bigger corporations
with a carbon footprint
I guess I just discovered
I very wish for love
connection, a kiss and
you showing me
the blue flowers
the grey water
Indeed not that much
to ask, she said

You have to come with me
It really doesn't seem much
indeed, merely concrete
we don't know nice cafes
or satiric entertainment
Yet the waves sound
And the shore looks
different from up there
So they did, and she is true
Why was I not up here
all the weeks I walked
to follow the sand rather
having looks deceive or
focusing on the idea that
all these extra thoughts
I'd thought 'm away - missing
the clouds hang over the hills
hinder sundown in spring -
the birds all out; now, finally,
there I was catching a perfect
eventide, towerend waves
while azul shines through the
boys in line for a perfect surf
No cloud to strike
No thought to mind
No wish to wait for
storm anymore, anywhere
else.

The reason I feel that insecure when you
take my picture is that -
apart from you taking
forever and me
getting over-selfconscious -
my image is stored for always.

Returning home after
a holiday and the house
smells of absence
smells of rain

Books stuck on their
shelves and my mugs
still hanging around
souvenirs of life

The carpet got a soft
lonely bounce. Sorry, I
read that somewhere
too nice to not use

Altogether where I left all
when I left and it feels I'll
never leave again
not straightening a shelf

The sun still on
my shoulder though - it's
more comforting to

pack up here
than on my way
to somewhere
past continuous

I really felt pretty today
I was at the beach
And that was all
My skin needed today

Saturday's march to the library
Family in cosy circle on Sunday
Tea black with milk and sugar
Telly channels in apple-pie order
Parties in cosy circles, thick smoke, glass tables
The neighbours your uncle and auntie
the kids put to bed in another bed
Dad with a pint (or two) to drive us all back
Our sofa a coffee brown corduroy
my record player orange and only ABBA
Didn't get the dark gloomy part these days
An oyster for a world
Life plane sailing from then onwards

an orange in the morning
yellowy sunlight sets through
the clouds, blueing up the sky
gets the green in another dimension
gets an evening red that glows
up trees in Mondrian's blue and violet.
But the moment I open my eyes I
feel the winter grey I'm not good
at. The desert deserting the ocean.
The gusts and waves through a coat.
So in black I draw the shades
around the heart, heeding for the
white light of Sun and Moon discs
always. The stars out of reach,
one can only see the seven rainbow
colours through the water drops
once a strange new day has begun
once the sand dunes start to move.
I cannot control foreshadows
I cannot measure the shifts of dunes.

Post-Summer, still sunny
There's too many humans here, 
he said
entering the pub, drunk withal
loudly talking about his kids 
and whatnot
quite that many humans on his own
The girl next seems unfussed, 
continues with
laptop and Guinness. Me, I
just popped in for a little
wine actually 
or rather to use the lav 
making the most of it as one does
trying to calm my mind as
I do
The food looks so lovely but
I don't allow me a little pick-me-
up I
wonder about the outsides,
forget about my new Didion,
always easily
distracted, by his cologne
and more and more plates, 
smells lovely
To be able enjoy the moment
the paper feels beautiful 
and I 
really tried on too many clothes 
today yet the sea helped 
a lot 
Tempted to couch and binge never-endingly
first one needs to get going 
alright yah
Tempted for another glass still 
first one needs to keep

the head from spinning
the fridge from empty
the shopping from a 
yellow sticker hunt

The world's full of useless 
purposeful days, come to think
of it.

I need you for some love
and at the kitchen table
All love for the world
and unhindered by me
Fish on a Tuesday
my papers all over
Your eyes my dance
with thoughts to feel
My heart your keep
with solutions to view
Head wind is not the
prevailing kind where
fore your mind ought
to be the rock of us when
the days wash away,
over me, bleak rainbow.

[After reading: ''He's all pine and I'm an apple orchard'']

Jet lagged until i cannot do
it anymore, the schedule of
getting back on track. Meaning
i'm losing it completely, more
than already used to anyway
my complicated brain. Thought,
dreams, hunger, thirst tumble
over each other. Meaning watching
tv at 2 am, reading 5 tabs at the
same time so willing to buy any
discount ticket to any afternoon
show hoping it'll help me sleep
sleep sleep, please!
Eating a bunch of peppermints
again, not answering any calls or
emails the songs on repeat, more
than already used to anyway
during a day. One book ready
upstairs, the others lying around
on the kitchen counter below,
an ideal place to stretch the legs
and make another
coffee, coffee please.

What do we do
to each other?
to ourselves?
Overhearing two girls in
a fitting room:
This looks far more sexier
on her than on me.
No.

Some coded emotion of a kind
not seasoned enough to express
if you mean to say no, just say no
just...
Some mid-morning of a kind
not timeless enough to enter
if you want to go, just go
just...
not going anywhere
not writing anything
not worth any lot
Some onlooker of life
just...

All has been invented before
but love - when we're out on the terrace
without the sun but anyway
cos it's a Wednesday and
we just want to get hammered
cos it's a Wednesday and
I just want to look
in your eyes to find the verve
regardless of being at work,
going to work, let's never work
again
it's the kick of a drink (or two)
the kick of your sparkle (or two)
You look away
I weigh you
cos I do not like it (when)
You say I'm too zappy
been told that by the other him
Start jumping to tease you
Start talking to kindle you
I do not like myself like that yet
I do like it less you're provoking
me ignoring me while your eyes
not distant but observant, inviting
me to say more to crawl next to -
Huh
I'll manage, I'll wait
and get you home regardless

She puts the needle back on the record
Pours herself another bitter *****-lemon
Some routines for pleasure and
some rituals just punishment
she knows
to make things beautiful for herself
a day-to-day encounter indeed
The sky as limitless vastness and
the half-silvered mirror as certain truth
He shows her love while condemnation
She knows 
Some performances rewarding and
some pacts still life.

How dark is his inside sometimes
The light is up, a sun over the stream
different smells, good food and he
sits inside - sulks over nothing made

into something
too big too bright

for my body to take in
for my mind to zoom out

He calls me his strange little
girl, makes sense I cannot seem
to learn from our failure to stay
together, hit my head on a tree
yesterday - nothing to write
home about

not something
that big or bright

for my body to take in
for my mind to zoom out

So I hired a kayak and took
the stream by surprise, stroking
it slowly, calmed down as the
riverbank moves over, carrying

me to something
so big, so bright

my body takes in
my mind lest forget

Growing up in a world of words
With my nan's post-war silence
my mum's Beatles' romances
and my aunt's miniskirt tales
With my boyfriend's Tolkien bias
my best friend's diving travels
and my cousin's zeal for cars
All imparted to my being
All present in the blossoming
of this girl in this world

They settled his head on two pillows
one extra behind his back, supporting
a weak smile, comforting a strong fear.
Ill follows death; his fall-down, failure
to rise to old heights, unplanned for
such young days.

Sweet and ever considerate on his bed,
as snow in the sun when nurses, smoking
doctors laughed aside. While my alarm
clock tells his time, a heartbreaking bye
to his mum. Two o'clock too early, yet
15:45 just right.

His punctual big heart.
His way to stay in the end.

Hair up
Dive in
Professional fitting
room conduct

She
Dives in
Rough waves and
He
Not even a
Look up
She
Though independent
Always precious when
He
Looks after
And up
Once in a moon

May I wish myself
all the happiness in the world
all that's truly valuable
Treasures as such
Beaches and trees
Mountains and forgiveness
and good coffee
exceptionally good coffee

From strong coffee 
to milky tea
From tea bags with strings
to spooning those without
From a bike on the right
to commuting on the left
From mayonnaise to ketchup
From rain boots to wellies
From 4 seasons in 1 day
to same summers all the same 
From 16 o'clock to 3 pm
to same differences
on isles & islands

No, it's not that far
I just remember how
to turn to long hair
your mini skirt, to
climbing trees
jumping streams
and make it through
Graduating in '75
we would rock 'n' roll
that summer your smile
made the sky spin
hanging around to
eat oranges and trip
the shade of the trees
on our flat stomachs
and your white top
Those days in heaven
we just believed we
had a birth right to
swim in Jason's pool
cruise in my dad's Ford
Born at the right time
Listening to the music
for the rest of my life

she easily feels
trapped quickly
after a while
in the same house
streets shops parks
at the same time
swarmed pubs parks
make her feel
isolatedly closed-in
as she was young
the vanity filled with girls
with hairspray, lipstick
she just stood there
half part of a world
outside her books
disconnecting back to today
when television resembles
confusing thoughts
haunt for decisions
nervousness relieves
as travelling antes up
yet seeming the only
solution contrary to wishes
of closeness to the
same people if you
think back a long time
when comfortable with the world.

She was a sea girl
but
apparently things change
and
She is a river girl
now.

nothing more than to feel secure
about herself, and free
to run to the water and not
feel her own body or
other eyes looking
moving away and into
the opposite of being noticed
what she does want too
walking past a terrace
her summer dress and long legs
hidden under the drape
warmth through the windows
tinkling through the open door
enough friendly people to
sit alongside too

Of all the things I could have
but I haven't
said
moored

taken for granted
soul
moves

Vying in any way

I was just caught up
in that racing mind
of mine

I was just caught up
in that double standard
of yours

Civilised in any way

An excellent double role
which didn't seem
entirely adequate

to me. In the end.

Silent and colder.

My own little
private hell

In a way it moves me
strangely to be
so insecure so grey
so hollow in a way
black tide's back
fire slowly fades
along all I wrong
my storm my sanity
the art's to abide
and enjoy the ride
to hell and back
and back again
to feel real again

Would you stay and  
sit with me please?

in fears and trust, dreams so ''busy being free'' she thought 
she could be, it would be possible with him but in the end he did
not bring her to his senses; in the end it was just not viable as since 
the moment they mounted together when he showed her no more 
than the blue flowers in their city park but the moment (1) she
asked 'm to play her music, he laughed her away or when (2) she
travelled she asked 'm to not keep distance, which is not necessarily
impossible, he refused and let her go because of that, that stubbornly
proudness aspect of his fathers character, her mothers submissiveness, 
to busy believing they'd make it without realising it takes two to travel.

a seat in the quiet coach
where people always need to tell
where they are
or discuss how long potatoes
need to cook
in a way it falls to me
to point out that we want
quiet
for fellow passengers just seem to sit
and stare or is it me
anyway to intervene because
i've got lots of sentences
stored and packed for the occasion
any way.

We all end up with
our own father
in the end.