1 Come the cold, darkening afternoon, the Earth tilting the drinker toward his retirement, the folding travel armchair in the sunny yellow corner by the elongated arms of knitted winter shadow, taken backward and put into the box, the lid screwed back on the little Malt left. 2 You’re old enough to remember when licensed…
Tag: ageing
I am sorry
I am sorry I don’t want to stand still I want to begin to crawl And walk, run and jump But the sinking sand stops me Me and all of my stars high in the heavens. I am sorry My heart is weak and I am weak without a heart My lungs fill…
beard in-fancy #2
4 the shock of the day is my new auto payment. the poetic interest is anthropological. the personal need is a difficult night to overcome. we are the ripples on the surface of Sleep, giving very little indication of why the water rose up. 40 some seasons of rent paid without a price increase at…
beard In-Fancy
1. from behind, in photographs, there is a balding moment when I do not recognise myself; I’m driving, under the speed limit, a work vehicle, towing a green trailer slowly being loaded with refuse. it has two compartments for the Recycling, and a coffin-size lidded box of chemicals and equipment for toilet cleaning. I talk,…
In her heart a maiden
what does it matter come the day it’s only chatter what they say she’s had her life, she’s old and grey mad as a hatter anyway she turns her head with with muted cry to hear these words as they pass by she knows how fast the years can fly how all lifes plans can…
Flickers of Light
To roam those miles in your eyes, Through the lands of your devouring orchids, Covered by lavender and purple orchids, Your garden hides your daughters, A bloodline of high priestess sovereignty, You choose the path you take, Your rights to status marks your best choices, The flickers of light behind each eyelid, My heart thumps…
from: Pocahontas, Alcoholism, The Compass, & The Word.
The shadow stays dry as the waves collapse. For almost a full decade I have not used the strong drugs of illumination yet the hunches gather into something formidable, the doorways in space are open still, but I nod & I indicate again that I decline, feeling I could tear along the dotted line of…
On Observing The Pensioner
Push Her Heart Rate Into The Transcendental State I picked her quickly as a regular in the wall-to-ceiling mirrors: sixty something front-on, 28 years old from behind. The nineteen eighties aerobics and coke, cane furniture her mother complained about, the clothesline of small sighs, lycra on the muscle properly. Her page is never updated they…