From Ultramarine

The city’s a centrifuge of flame

slurred slivers of humanity

dance their delirium

drunk on street corners

falling into strangers pockets.

It’s 3.a.m. no movement,

unending movement of the streets

my head holds immanent hangover

strong hands, wide thighs, rhythm

his body lingers on the edge of heat:

you, a whirling cataclysm of delight

what am I to do with you beloved?

White light on the dance floor, glitter stark against autumn tones, a dank alley midnight zombies masked faces of desire , desire for heat ,desire to keep away the biting emptiness of sleep without a hand to hold.  Beyond a drumming of street fever the crowds flow like water in a pagan festival, like the last coupling of a tattered civilisation.  You turn to me, black eyes brilliant with the ecstasy of movement; the night has stars which belong to all of us.  I’m enthralled by the deep grounded column of blue fire that holds us mesmerised in its power.  If I shut my eyes I can feel the glitter pass between us, we rub faces mix the sweat of dancing I can feel the stubble of your cheek, grating grounding, holding me more complete than any kind of loving.  We are one earth, one blood, one memory and I’m wild like the night watching the shore from a storm filled sea, clinging to my driftwood watching the distant lights from houses where normal people live, and I realise at last that something very simple could change all this.

 

*

Spawned from Persian mysteries

spun with the whisper of angels tongues,

comprehension is a catch phrase

we throw like a glittering ball of panacea

between us; I catch it.

Spirits spiral into the air borne

rivers of a childhood wish,

long forgotten

 

except in dream tunnels.