For Who Might See

You – did you know me when

I fell into the ageless well within?

And you – did you watch me while

I lingered before the flame

Of my Beloved’s smile?

Perhaps you – you saw me dance.

Did you taste the kiss of who

I touched in trance?

Maybe you – in your eyes I recall

A fleeting light:

A moon between clouds

On a stillborn night.

1997

AEIOU

A - ambition to jump over the fence
E - the horizontal effort of the event
I - the stile side-on over which I stride
O - over I go onto the other side
U - the bump as I land down again

14 - 4- 06

Protagonist (Limerick)

In a movie was trapped a protagonist

In a death machine with an unusual twist.

‘Dam!’ he said with dejection,

“I’d prefer lethal injection,

But I’m afraid my doctor’s gone west!”


2007

My World (1980)

I fought on the wind that began before time

In the beginning it wasn’t this way.

But now the risks I take are all mine

And I alone reap the pay

The cry of the wild, the effortless climb

The speed relative to none.

These are the qualities I want to find,

The careless risk of waking up blind

If only to look at the sun.

The relationships too difficult to grasp,

Of self-seeking people among

Whom I’m left in a world of my own with the task

Of having to reach their one.

If only so I have this paper to show

That I think like all the others.

Well, you won’t find me there, I’m enjoying the air

Of my world, their ideals, it smothers.

1980

Frog Prince (1980)

Occasionally
A frog,
in jumping
From lily-pad
To lily-pad,
Misses

The jump,
Falls in the water,
And wonders
Whether he is
Swimming or
Drowning.

23 Vows (1999)

To feed the little mouths,

To sexually arouse,

To be a good man around the house,

To keep my fury doused,

To stay with you til home come the cows.

To heal the bitter rows,

To fill the day with wows,

To keep wearing the trous’,

To convince you of my powers,

To be with you to wile away the hours.

To appreciate your vows,

To work on being good pals,

To be tidy as a mouse,

To forego the mood that sours,

To praise what’s inside your blouse.

To work to have what’s ours,

To remember to give you flowers,

To in your mind take a browse,

To make sure old skin sloughs,

To heal you of your ow!s

To in love-making nip your brows,

To show you now the hour is

To remake our mutual vows.

Child At The Breast

Sun-golden mounds of molten motion
Home-warmed hands hold bobbing boobs like the ocean
Knoll-nudged fudge-brown nipples rippled roll out
Thumbs tug titty-treats of teats in your mouth.

14 - 4- 06

Keep

You keep house,
And I'll earn my keep.
While I work,
I need somewhere to sleep.

Ditty

The only piece of hair on his face
Hung from his lower lip,
That it looked as if he'd left a trace
From eating an unskinned rabbit.

Sounds

Cicadas buzzed as he wrote,
Listening to the music of Donovan.
The traffic up the hill sounded heavy.

And then the tape stopped playing the song,
Hissing with the cicadas and vrooming,
And clicking off, he could hear his baby breathing.

The traffic came down to the sound of waves,
Lapping and crashing on the coast.
And between the birds, he could hear these words
Creating.

Listening With Two Ears

If I can listen
With one ear and then the other,
Listen to where I listen from,

Then my head is like a darkened cave,
My self caught in the light of the entrance.
Seeing me there.
Listening from back here,
As I feel along the ridged interior
Of myself echoing.

Six Passers-by

Middle-aged, papers clutched against her chest, fingers entwined.
As though her life were undelivered, although apparently sealed and signed.

Pear-shaped body, swaying hips, hands hooked inside long black sleeves.
Hair tied into ponytails, handbag swinging, to and fro she weaves.

Thin white shirt, rippling in the wind, pasting against bare skin.
Long unbuttoned cuffs signal the end of his business day, evening begins.

Small Asian face almost covered by wrap-around sunglasses.
Earrings flash in flaxen hair, flared jeans reveal high fashion shoes as she passes.

A double exposure, two dark-haried women, each holding a hoisted handbag.
In smiles and hair heads nod together, but one seems lighter, feet white sandalled.

Chinstraps frame a silvered beard, a cyclist in yellow windbreaker.
Speeding by, his smile is surprisingly permanent, the freedom in this cocooned caper.


27 - 11 - 07

The Child of Hills

Walk in the child of hills with legs that shine like apples
In pockets open to sunlight with daffodils holding the air.
Look to paper planes catching from leaves that green the blinking eyes
To butterflies lifting from waterfalls spreading fingers on the stairs.
Take chimneys dressed at daybreak passing shadows off the fields
Caught in waves at grassy ridges growing warm clouds off clear blue.
Wait near old brown bridges for shoes that hang like coloured fishes
And hide near branches folding out for worms in borrowed suits.
Show candles roaming under stars past roads that whistles turn to view
While seeds shy under fallen logs down past grey crickets hicupping.
Embrace long days at childhood’s end in meadows facing head downwind
And wrap full coats at owl’s long note in hair flung puddle-jumping.


13 – 3 – 05

Silence

Fresias fade, withdraw their bloom
As though reversing time.
A smile she smiled at him now curls back
Toward herself in self-reflection, fades too.
She wants to crease the silence between them
Like a sheet of paper with no words.
Words get stuck in time.

The Quiet Young Moon

Apple night the quiet young moon is dead.
Splash splash on the windowsill shows where she bled.
With wind on the lake the warmth of the land
Will curl and unfurl mist over the sand.
In starlight the child might sleep through the dream.
An owl flies by but nothing is seen.
My murder has happened a long time ago.
See here it was there that I felt the first blow.

Crickets

The crickets are singing.
Midnight cascading flumes of cadent water
slipping past shiny stones.

Man With Only One Leg

Man with only one leg,
Lean-stepping on crutches along the pavement.
The trouser-leg of his jeans rolled up and pinned.
He didn't want to just cut it off, no.

Love Note

small parchment tipped one folded diamond side down
blue ink bled encrusted edges over ridges
fading tidemarks staining tiny matted grey fibres
curling runes crafted fledglings cantilevered along line
pattern stamped cornered scrawled worn signature
hand pressed parachute rocket shot paper

missed the moon now marooned

at her feet in the space she vacated

Death

Death is but a blink of day,
An eyelid of the night.
It only happens on the surface of things.
Deep within, life goes on.

Ebony Enemy

Ebony enemy
Sunk inside
Rolled up into rhyme
Floodgates feed
Flocks of greedy
Meaningless meanderings
Mine.
In turmoiled
Roily well-oiled
Whorls in wonderland
I find
No gotten gains
Merely strains
Motley mothy
Eaten signs.


4 – 02 – 07