Month: November 2016

The oak tree shakes its withered leaves; shadows nodding on the train.

There is nothing on this plain: But thought A snide wind A wide-eyed gecko A hare’s dust The shadow of a hawk An escaping light A crooked-arm hill A lover’s swale Now, too, tears

Her hair is surf-sea waves crossing an ashen face. Who is she now her colour is gone, and her limbs are weak? Recognised and not; alive and not, a thin gown riding her bones, a buzzer in a skeletal hand. And where is the family now, now that she has fallen, now she is cast…

I became him under his hat, felt his voice rise in my throat and felt his smile on my face. We shared part of a life. Lives. And then he went, bent with pain. At the end, he tried to joke. He said a man in another bed came to pray. Yes, he said, pray…

      that man               to Leonard Cohen RIP that man in his elegant disguise of razored word took us down to the river that twisted with light amidst long runs of darkness, that river sounded like a whisper into the microphone of dream, ran with the strength…

They’re no use: the obtuse facts have nothing to do but twiddle their thumbs and, hum in the dark.   *   Our love is mute as the moon tears   the lilac sky with her horn;   adorns the void between us –   mere idea in the womb.   In this early phase…

up like a dog all night, in the damp flat, an ear for a knock on the door or a horn in the fog of a car park, some vacant lot,   in my hand hot banknotes. i become someone i’m not – an ace Face, leant against the brick wall out back, men come…