Simple notes
Strung together like
Little pearls
Heaven help us
Tank’s running low
We’re turning on
A little road.
Circle back again
It’s a whisper
In the wind
Doesn’t matter
rain or shine
Clock is ticking,
Flowers wilting.
Why search
For peace?
Wheel needs
No grease
Let it squeak on
Rather moan
Honest songs
To the lonely moon.
teapot on the shelf
looking down at me
teacup on the floor
played too roguishly
no, not broken, please
have to keep myself
looking prettily
mustn’t crack a bit
she will frown at it
spinning round and round
little game I play
watch the colors spin
dancing in my clay
and that is the way
I fall on the ground
hear the teapot say,
“mustn’t crack a bit
she will frown at it.”
from the village shore
mountains lift
muddled attempts
to Irish cider rules
one danced
twinkling
but I was tired,
so I blacked out
and around my
soft velvet chair
the party clamored
delighting in the night.
Orange.
No. The sun was yellow.
It rose liquid above the
blank ribboned highway.
We were sped along it,
hands spread against the glass.
Below the light it lay, unmoving,
the blood soaked body,
and you begged it to suck air into lungs.
Open eyes. Scream out a loud high pitched
Orange.
No. The balloon was yellow.
It rose lifted and moved by the breeze,
unable to lay down anchor.
Naked tree limbs reached for it.
High, with fingers stretched out,
yet too far below enough
and the balloon drifted into a great,
wide crater colored
Orange.
No. The stars were yellow.
I sang below them,
all the songs you taught me to sing.
We knew, by heart.
All the notes flew into the dark sky.
Spilled themselves without shame,
Became a bright red firey
Orange.
No. The ball was yellow.
The mouth drooped downward
and the eyes searched mutely,
unable to shape words.
Sad sorrowful clown.
Paint on it a smile beautiful and bright
Orange.
No. The flame was yellow.
It beat hard and fast.
It was clothed in flesh and bone.
To the pain, it pleased and begged.
It did breath, after all.
Don’t tell me it was
Orange. I know what I saw, and I saw
The bright blue sky fill with warm pale light
beneath pink and purple clouds.
As long as I live I will never forget it’s hue.
It was
Orange.
Sleeps it well
And good
Rocking in the wind
Cradled thee between
Petals, my legs, my arms, my mouth
It’s a cave in the dark.
My heart heaves beneath a cage of bone
It possibly feels at home
It puts the kettle on,
At least, that’s what I hope.
Between the cradled wind
Rocking fiercely in the wind
Sleeps it in the wind
Good and well sleeps it.
not pretty, the font
scrawled letters in case sensitive
type bold, ironic
everyday the same
grainy shades of gray
what is it? worth all?
to be here for some reason
aha, yes, that’s it
the punch line, no joke
say it weak, you think
but it takes a lot of strength
holding these ribs together.
Exiled
on the Isle of wait
thing for another thing-
Waiting for a thing that isn’t drunk
on waiting.
Preach of want
Of need, of starvation
Of being too drunk-
Too many cupfuls of reaching out
without finding another to hold onto
too deep the bottomless pint of
needing
friendship,
needing
a listening ear,
Needing
Another.
Drink up the bitter brand
get drunk on lost loves and wear
Foam – the fear of dying alone
never anyone to carry me home.
drink the loneliness that waits
in an empty house
Drink empty stairs
Drink empty bed
Drink it drunk
And stamp it on my tongue
Stranger’s love as strange is better
Than waking
Hung over in the morning
On the Isle of wait
Exiled
She stole the sun!
At least,
I thought she did,
Viciously
Carelessly
Free
Just ipsidy dipsidy
So I left.
I walked away.
But, when I looked up
I saw
Following me
The sun!
That’s when I knew
I stole the sun, too.
but there were faces, uncovered,
In the wood grain
In the swirls of water washing over her calm body,
Speak of gray blue eyes,
Speak of sad questioning lips and
Pearl earlobes,
In the lines of dark and lite text,
In the spools of seagulls’ footprints,
And they were seen, they must have been,
In the mixing of sand and salt water
The current pulled them in
And pushed them under;
So all voices of waves, wind,
And gulls cried over
Her too calm body curved in the current
There on the shore.
And they begged her
with beating
to breathe,
to dance,
to play.
But she did not on that day.
I gave my love to an elephant
Tied with a bow in box
She took it gladly, how elegant
Said she, she said I know
A way we both can lephagent
Like others seem to do
Tie a string around your legalant
And away we will go
Those below us all emoji-ed
And thought it such a trip
To see a girl and eleblimp
Fly so hip
Floweredly the counter bluebells
Ringing across the fields
Of sheep and baby
Lambs bleat in the sunlight
Rays streaking
Nude like over the valley
And I’m not drunk
Yet, quite dizzy though,
You’re to blame for
Turtles cross here
The white brickwork road
Leads to my bed somewhere
The end waits comforting with promises
Of sleep warm, so safe, so safe the words
echoing through the newly formed nights,
No love within them.
To have that ten back,
seconds tick away and the moment is passed
the present was right here in front of me:
blue eyes, round lips, arms like oh my god –
can I lick them? bite them? taste them? salt.
the gathering of words and stumbling
Why can’t my mouth say what my heart wants?
“I love you.”
Say it.
Three words, ten seconds…
The whistle blows,
final boarding.
I’ll write.
Me too.
eight, nine are leaving
ten turned to wave
all the world is a train is an airport
is the car driving away
is the melting horizon in sunset
and I can’t find my keys.
Driftwood
Where come did you go
And mango the flowering trellis
Like me
Small hands a bit clumbsying the way
Pastel chalk doth do
As the sea makes it’s market in the sand
Then recinds.
Can we lemonade the day
Salty sweet
Or will it drift away
Beneath of feet?
princess thought
frog he was not
handsome princely
said many
need never for
money to wed
beautiful and wealthy
not greedy
heart decided
it had found love
love found
had it
decided heart
greedy
not beautiful and wealthy
wed to money for never need
many said
princely handsome
not he
was frog
thought prince
Sun, the rising of
East, welcoming
birdsong chorus-ers
flowering, skies blue
beckoning me unto
but feel it I do not
can’t see top to bottom
and
bottom to top.
See? Can not.
Do I it feel,
but unto me, beckoning:
chorus-ers, birdsong,
blue skies, flowering?
Welcoming,
east of rising,
the Sun.
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