1.clock-flower girl

Poetry is for afters she said
Kisses (including bites)
And the freshness of her cold country
Glistened her eyes. Whitened her hair
Blushed her skin and made her moment aware
As a clock flower at the edge of its world
Acuteness of foreign streets and red gloved hands
Holding blue gloved hands
More feeling than these un-gloved hands holding a
Photograph of now someone else’s lover perhaps
Poetry is for after when the clock flower can tell no more time
When the scent has washed out of your hair
And her imprint is pressed as concrete to stay untouchable
Number and address changed and blue glove boy reminds
Her of me and with as much passion because it is in
The no moment to spare bite of her kisses
The clutching scraping thrusting goodbyes in a corridor
don’t go don’t go not yet this is forever and
Your friend will wait in the rain
Dressed and ready and then torn of again
Peeling clothes off like starved for orange skin
Bite. Scents. And did that really happen
From the window. In the rain running
When an hour(a month a year and more) ago
She pressed her back against my chest and said
Poetry is for after
Her eyes like sparklers then said quickly but don’t touch
Just kiss and let me taste what you would otherwise write
This is the moment and the lines you write on
That keep it all together fall away. Bed says
Canvas pure and only we two stripped bare
Can last in it.





2. Synchro necessity
Watchmaker god setting off the clockwork
Hearts in different syncs all telling a different time.
If you place your head on a chest you can
Sometimes set them the same.










3. lopped

So I wondered if amongst
Existences whose
clock flower eyes look from morning till night
Down the street unchangingly
Would notice me if the wind had followed or simply
Just blew into their eyes
Innocently as a childs curiosity killed the caterpillars
Unknowing the significance
What if I held them in the same regard
Tightened lids on jars of caterpillars
In kindness
The ones that would never have
Become butterflies to escape










4. Embrace

Bordering on the most existential despair …
A stubborn singularity
Eternities not hatching
Rusted inner clockwork still always
...when you hold her tight so that life cannot take her away
Hold her in the most first only real moment in time
And say I do
Take on the impending stars breath on our necks
Accepting young to hold each other
Be grafted onto each other
Molten bones in lava
lovers to the last two atoms
Even the Siamese that made it women
Longs to be stitched back together again
Hold each other as everything but light burns
In hopes your lights might still
Recognize each other in that dark.
And be enough










5. White widows

If stars could see
Would they huddle close
(Not for warmth) in pairs
Could they trail when another star happens
To shine more than theirs
And the widowed ones still want to burn













6. Confused as a spider in a painting by mc escher

Nothingness wont start
Its motorized innards
Are absurd
Tangled like entrails if sketched by Escher
And the stars at least the places where stars could be
Like matches inside a matchbox dropped in the sea
Impatiently
Nothingness like a tractor in an endless winter
Nothing to beckon the thaw
The battery inside fully charged
A singularity like all of Noah’s pairs stuffed into a suitcase
Left alone in an airport
No morning to shed light on it
Either in- the one second before
A guard flicks the light on
Or an eternity immeasurable
The pairs inside asleep
For how long and not even the elephants having memory
And the tractor asleep at the side of some road
And the fields asleep under snow
And why start now when everything is
Unchanging calm no birth cry
There must have been two cats in the suitcase
And something got the better of them
Found their way out
And eternity stubborn as were
All split second or forever of it
Saw the pair and wondered its opposite
What if and a light capable flicked on
Eternity seeing her there besides all along
Opening eyes as if for the first time
But recognised eternity in them.









7. Tiny hammers liquid nails

There’s nothing on
The sky has no reception
You cross the street
Still nothing good on
The pavements dance like static
Under tiptoe and of silver multiples
Like tiny elephants stampeding
As if the lovelessness of the multiplication table
Rebelled. Rain drops looking for partners
In their freefall. Some making it
On shoulders and glass
And then when its all stopped
The lovelessness expels its stale morning breath
With eyes full of summer and rainbows full of longing
For lost childhood
The sky repeating old movies
Clinical as a chart diagnosis on a hospital bed
When you look at the sky you think of your own mortality
And it is the only answer you can get.
You seek second opinion from the sea
But don’t want to end it all just yet.






8. Treeze.

the moon through branches like miners helmet torches
With ashen faces The trees
have slept through the day and awake now
Like miners working nights( as if it couldn’t get any darker)
The trees arguing with the sky which is stubborn as stone and wil not give in to the trees gesturing wildly and the wind on their side
And the stars sometimes
And the moon gets caught
like a stray balloon snug in the twigs
The sky begins its affir with midas
their hair still wavering with the breeze like medusa'S
then with looking into the shield
All are frozen still.

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