Fossil of your love

Day follows night
sky hides it’s scars,
you, over there:

and I’m a fossil
of your love,
beautifully petrified.

It’s the same old song
full throttle need,
love dances around corners

always out of reach.

Mornings somersault,
tide line on a beach
driftwood bravely stacked

in some lost winded corner,

and I’m a fragment
of your smile,
the corner where my tongue

impregnates your lips
to semaphore all of this
without speaking.

All the waiting makes me scream
huge boils appear on gilded flesh
running sores from the breath we

inhale, exhale,

but the night spins on to day
a whirlwind of lost time, and
beyond all thoughts of this,

just you and I.

A kiss is not a contract

Clouds bank vaulted skyline
river purrs beside its crushed banks,
we walk, something between us ,
something handed down, a cruelty
unnamed that can’t be documented.

The kiss is unexpected
a softness held inside this hard
protective shell of body. Your
eyes are dark inside a mask
that holds you here.

I’m ready to run into another day,
coin across the water , flee,
until the kiss:

A kiss is not a contract

yet something nameless was agreed
under the blessing of the lamplight.,
water lapping black against the beach
our mouths mouthing infinity.

Too much tide

A full moon they said
hidden behind cloud
the tide washed high
washed away my prints
gone without a sound.

I turned across the beach
watched the water churn
flood its spit flecked spite
block all sight & sound
the way before me .

A high spring tide:
I never knew the might
lost far inside my mind
saw sudden change in light
before the water doused me.


Deep in tumble weed of mind
dreams form: in sleep
I catch the eagle’s flight

glide on gossamer wings of dawn
learn to forget.

Perception of lost time
cold of winter storm
I’ve left them far behind.

You lost in city lights
wonder where we’ve gone

Here the spring sleeps
hope forces bud through
solid ground

pale opal promise .


Sleep filled dream falls upon dream
like rain: indistinguishable one
from another.

Light bubbles from the deep
a new morning; sun burns
the clouds away

warms my skin.

You call from work filled life
you angle for a piece of light
some notion to see you through.

I’m swan winged occupied
by stars bursting to be shed:
I’m moulting fiction.

I swim the waters of jade lake
to search dreams creeping into
me, their pale hands pull me

to the shade

but Sun has laid it’s golden head
& kissed the grass to crazy green
on this buttercup filled day

where love is born.


Morning opens
sleep drowsed
into grey.
You, on tube, on train,
in coffee queue
watching life from
deep brown eyes.

The other you
is walking dogs
across a heath
throwing ball into
the future, stridently.

So many “yous”
so many “days “ to
fight for and bequeath;
marooned in solitary

My heart’s a
citadel to faith
where the storm
troopers gather
each and every day,
to charge a crack
in the liniment.

I look inside
outside me,
watch my hands
across a page, search
my patterns on the mirror
of your face.

Soon, like you,
I’ll be a memory
a breeze upon
a star filled gaze
a word engraved
in empty space.

An epitaph, an effigy.

Angel ride

Life revolves, rears up and hits
us in the face with unexpected

You leap and twitch the switch
that sears us, you turn the heat on
like cathedral choir

so dry and empty of sound the walls
rebound and crumble.

The things that matter wallpaper your
brain with their absence, so you chew
me like old gum.

I’m fabulous in isolation, watch the sun
rise, rolling like a beer barrel towards its birth
in blanket sky.

The angels wait patiently and you decide
whether or not to decide, to be loved
by me.

Crossing over

Returning to the same place,
hands across an ocean
eyes across a sky so wide
galaxies hide there.

We are Samurai.

You linger on the edge of nowhere
hungry for something, I have no mouth
to feed you.

Returning to the same place
we miss each other, we pass
so close we can almost touch.

Forgetting for minutes,
the Gods laugh at us.

Here, kites fly in an unfeeling sky
and a starving people leave
flowers on my doorstep.

Frangipani, pale linen gilded
purple with the sweet smell
of love.

What use are Samurai in heaven?


Early morning blues
body in situ
mind reclines on crashing
surf, early morning blues,
something snaps.

Text lines, fast track
washed up on grey tide
racked with images
of you.

Sweet smell
skin smell,
I want to
inside of you
become the light
behind your eyes.

Simplicity is a gift,
lightly gartered it
restores the twist
of life’s package.

Love is not
what you say it is,
love was never meant
to be sad like this.


Hung in time’s pendulum
felled between the measured chimes
pinned inside the gate of miracles ;
certainty trembles :
bronze sheaved corn erect for harvest
flattened by that one freak storm .

Yesterday’s a bluebird
beaked with silken scarf
flies fast to erode tomorrow’s granite ,
and wise men wait
immobile in that detached space:
chop wood, eat fire, drink from molten river
search their truth in children’s eyes.

Lightning strikes so calmly
blasting bolt splits knotted oak
nurtured centuries in nature’s arbour,
and certainty’s an island
dropped in shark infested sea,
here we flounder for horizon
flotsam fleshed on random wave.

‘’Now’’ leafs her girdled circlet
springs from sprouted heartbeat
bites the blood of old men’s breath
holograms each withered hand ,
pattern tunes your family voice
that seals lost generations .

Caught inert in measured swing
life blossom’s her blind moment
turns the stair ,reneges once more ,
and certainty’s a witness,
beam your hopes in fervent prayer ,
chop wood, eat fire, drink from molten river
relive your truth in children’s eyes .