Wednesday, 28 August 2013


You are a precious stone to me
a bejewelled meteor that swiftly flew in
from Saturn, carrying
…spewing Lunar dust
Heady sunsoaked daylight that uncovered my thoughts
like dice, giant boulders gone
I lost face to an upturned dome that sparkled earth
As it revolved slowly like a turquoise record
Taping the ridges it heard and hears
It remembers.

My love shed its romantic shuttles
light years ago
Interlocking fingers turned into hands that swim like the silver fishes
in the course of the same tide
A swell…a shoal of optimism.
We sing, rejoicing water-filled songs that
dance like fountains from ancient dolphins’ mouths
Our teeth still beam and smile always for
more sea, more sun, more love, more sailing.

The wild private world is hidden safe, my love,
from the concrete and tarmac architecture of civilisation
It is watertight
a constant cocoon of wide waxed leaves
an oasis in a bone china cup of our delicate skeletons
Cushioned in animal-shaped clouds that dare the sun
to hide in its blue grease of youth.

Wednesday, 21 August 2013


Etch me in rock and make me live
You are the Lion man
 And you have water for veins
 Your eyes are the caves of the world.
 You see the Sun until it vanishes beneath the anticipation of tomorrow, or never again;
that doesn't matter because we are eternally  embroidered trinkets

like Neanderthal's teeth

Released a verse into the sky
That's all you could ever offer
Versus cicadas chirping their electric flutes and
Charcoal on the walls smudges wood wind, sand chimes and snow drums...
A primal orchestra with lungs as pianos, your ivory rib cage

And I am the foam on the crest of a wave, lapping
You find inside a cavity that was hidden for 10,000 years and still echoes
Wild thyme, honey, ancient figs,  the pristine scent
hums from the glass wings of bees.

Did you walk with the wolves then, or
were you burnt in the fire of knowing too much?
Did you hunt in packs?
Where did all the laden animals go? 
Will they return like meteors into our fingertips so we could

The next day, I'm a haunted house sailing towards the
giant squid of night
My strange sails like ghostly pillowcases,
billowing with reckless anticipation
A chalky residue of my romantic gene
At least my skull doesn't let me down.

You're the parting in my hair
Caressing me in a beautiful abandoned vineyard
You're precise like spearheads
Yet I prance like clouds of mosquitoes at dusk
All is curls and feather down from innocent vagueries
Do you trust my sketch, lover...architect?
I comb you out of my hair.