Anony – Mouse ( party animal )

Light and shape

 

lost on the fringes of a tumult

the hot air rising as a shroud

above contagion

this party is a swarm that I apparently

am-a-part-of

though that ( my imaginary friend )

is problematic because

though I am invisible my head is telling me quite the reverse

that I throb amongst them  –  a lighthouse

intermittently spraying light upon their gathering

inviting comments yet somehow repelling them too

I am anti-matter

words drown in me as I suck at pleasantries

my teeth elide with one another in a rictus, not a smile

engaging with yet another co-reveller

who senses in me the genus of a germ

airborne, not entirely dangerous

but worth, well

worth avoiding

and this my ( imaginary ) friend

is just the start

even before intoxication alters the scales

and my paranoia settles in, warming to the task

of further reducing me – as a chef would a sauce

to the point where I am piquant

an offering so humbled I would prefer

to be quite simply elemental

and rest in a heavenly quiet

that becomes a prophecy

and then like air

be gone

South Milton Beach

South Milton Beach. pic

 

the water

on course to spill

drives head-long seaward

following yearnings of the moon

on vectors that cannot be ignored

rolling stones and pebbles in a forensic rush

to clean, to erase all traces

of where they have been

so each mystery is pristine

lost in spray – the wind

gives them alibis

and they go, all of them

like turtles to the maw

of the open sea

that pretends to be    gentle

though it has the power over night and day

and I walk amongst the day trippers

tourists on familiar soil yet eager

to be away

from home

whispers

whispers. pic

 

the voice is

a stretch

a cord, a line

not taut it spans time

it is a lament

unfolding from the quay

a ship’s hawser, thick fibres worn

uncoiling under pressure

an umbilical cord still intact

calling soft murmurs that echo

in the cave of a living history

and metaphors are all we have

for loss

the voice is

a cord, a line

a semblance of everything

that was ever mine

lost in darkness

even lost in smiles

the learned lies

the unnecessary loss

and grief

burning spires, artefacts

rust on beauty

and the death of stars

which has all been the daily news

on a loop that is

my loop and

the voice is

a stretch

a cord, a line