The black owl

Thought inks,
The dull drops
Ache a slow fall,

Entering a thick night,
The mind giants collide
And turn to stone

My red bloom;
A ghost in the glow
Of an unforgiving moon.

The clouds,
The fat clouds
Will not let me see,

In this ruthless absence
Sleep blinks like a haunted light
On the edge of a dream

The black owl eyes me;
A sharpness in the shapeless dark,
I’m awake as a knife

After Russian Caravans

Mapped into a mouthful of day,
Recorded in crunches given to ground,
We mark our way in treads and sounds, here
Ivy greens the memory stones,
Weaving over peaceful sleeping,
That footsteps cannot stir.

I find smile eyed surprise
At unexpected birds, the silent grace
Of foreign wing tips
Grazing on the winter
Of this south east sky; an occasional aeroplane,
A dog wobbles by.

Standing in the still,
The light in your laughter gentles the cold, here
The trees drawn back,
Open curtains on a view;
You trace for me a river on the distance,
Quiet me with your truth.

Ellipsis

I lie in a foetal fold,

Still born, still as a pillar,

A cold heavy stone,

Unmoved by my existence

 

Slow eyes roam to find a connection,

My stamp of identity in the empty objects about me,

Seeking understanding

In the pages of books, in the picture of the nude woman

Pinned to the wall,

Until I am

 

A fist of poppies exclaim on my desk,

Their angry red shouts in this muted space

And force me into feeling;

An ache of somewhere else.

Full of dying life

Their green stems bend in defeat.

 

Outside, sick leaves thick with old rain

 Stick to a numb ground,

Bruised and useless.

The light is difficult, a brash intrusion,

I close the blind on the day,

Too grey, already read,

A tired repeat.

 

The poppies call your name,

And I remember you like a wound,

A gaping absence,

Ellipsis cracks

An ugly smile,

Its toothless grin mouths me in,

The black gap roars

 

 

 

Burning Autumn

The leaves are heavy with falling,

Burning autumn, soaked

In a sweet density,

The thick meat of memory

Juices underfoot,

A final scent, pressing

The weight of the year to ground.

 

These days bruise, 

Swollen echoes

Ache and sharpen,

Recollection seasons my veins;

Your lonely age whispers

From an earthy grave

Ahead of me,

Crushed colours 

Cry spirals in a purple dusk,        

Distance waves from the wings of deserting birds

Beating their retreat on fireworked skies.

Electric in my dark

You creep in like an unanswered question,

Spilling into my quiet.

Rocking my calm

Your sea hands trawl my sands

To recover a heart

Sunk in redundancy.

Shocking like a Jellyfish,

Electric in my dark

Shark - like you invade,

Until I am yours devoured,

Undiluted, raw,

Washed up

Gasping on a gentle shore.

To catch your fall

Underneath an Armada of stars

That sing light

And lift my eyes to find yours,

In a tide of time,

I wait for you.

I'll bring you down 

On a gentle breeze

And soften the ground

To catch your fall.

Thwock, Thwock, Thwock

Time ticks in tennis balls

Hot stepping to your game,

Falling into rhythm

We dance.

Yesterdays’ hit the net, caught

Between you and I.

One all.

 

On an off beat, you strike

With an energy that kick starts my heart.

I miss, you smile

Some semblance of friendship,

I am electric.

Thirty – forty.

 

A tip on how to hold my racket right

The sound of sunshine,

A fat banana smile in the sky.

Tastes like an echo of? Bread and butter pudding

I am full up with you.