I need my silence to chase after words in their mind like a greasy shadow in a doorway half glimpsed half grappled half grabbed light disrupts the shadow obscured in that moment of loss,
anger... no relief.. only a death...
.
"the days run away like wild horses over the hill" Bukowski
you look up and you're 30 and married
40 and you're divorced
50 and alone
this is good, you start to count lines
hoard the days
focus on the art, the wind,
the way a bird turns its head to look
you find yourself doing that
looking at it
with the one good poet's eye
part of it makes sense
the madness of the world
as you pass observing, recording, distilling
an objective subjective perspective
I hold the supple skin of your middle, firm..
as you dance your firedance,
I lose myself in your circle
and we become as one.
The weaving of my bones to the night,
I wait on the whim of your star
standing in my lone heart shoes.
The colours of your aura
imprinted on my mind.
I dance the steps of the possessed
and I fall down, down.
An empty puppet
loves lost strings tangled and torn
__________________________ once upon a time there was this girl and she learned to firedance in Cambodia... and well that's that...
the almost silent moan of the pine passed to the excited sycamore it’s leaves flapping with news of the wind and so to the garrulous ash half dead leaves reanimated rushing off cackling and cracking dancing in swirls and twirls like old ghosts no one fears
____________________________________
at my old place I had these pines and late on a moonlit night the ghosts gather... By Drax Ireland
Valentines Day focuses on the boy or girl that has a boy or girl... the lonely hearts are in the wings, wilting, waiting, wishing....
if I was a bird you are the colour on my wings if I was a fish you are the rainbow on my back if I was the land you are the flower growing in me if I was a star you are the light shining from me if I was a song you are my music if I was that boy you are my girl if if only if only
a print dress in a cottage window nice colours, patterns reds blacks but what do I know about dresses except taking them off and even then manys a half off situation love / life half off most of nearly everything the same it becomes a habit the fun is in the imagining the off then in a fast lane the dresses coming thick and fast one day you wonder what did I do to deserve this like it was bad the money flowing the girls wowing then the dresses fading their print pattern turns to greys I struggle to pick the correct image from the line up Where are you guilty ? own up, step forward your bright brand new best cleavage in the spotlight like an old war movie we stand transfixed focused on the cleavage as if it was the first one we’d seen maybe it was... the perfection, the angle of reveal the sexquotient all adding up to more original sin so where now god ? 'here, have some more sin the cleavage is on the house…'
_________________________
It really happened, I was driving along the road and saw this dress hanging in the window of a house on the edge of the road, bright colours like stop lights @ a railroad crossing.... so there I was, drawn to it magpie like... trying to / hoping to dodge the train... *laughs*
