A cup of tea ( will settle it)

a cup of tea

 

I salute the deep swells

of an ocean that rolls

it’s hunger audible, sucking, heaving

a breath, then the rasp of shingle

dragged across the palate

that moment of calm, when

I imagine the stomach is full

satiated

before another lunge below the moon

announces gravity will not wait

and sailors bob on waves

duty bound, flung in a dance

a flamenco of spray and romance

and me

so far in land that this

may or may not be happening

but it matters not

because to me it’s all

a cup of tea

for us

 

for us. pic for poem

for us

a sea rises beneath the ice

in a rasping wet friction of sounds

breathing below the crust

as the sounds of aeons squealing, mingling

in secrets and trysts, murders and

quiet kindnesses

all enslaved to a kingdom in limbo

in search of the mystery above

 

for us

they face one another disoriented

by nature and climate as it circles

the globe

and we, adoptive custodians,  tinker

at the fringes like alchemists

stirring the oceans and gazing

at swirling accretions of plastic

in trapped oceanic pockets

 

for us

extinction will be the longest full-stop

a foretelling of the blindness that holds

the hands of self-harm

we are so insistent, so superior, so deaf

to the echoes of poetry that wails

in the souls of those who have been long gone

but still ache with the loss that is

their knowledge, their lost and floating ethereal gifts

for us

Hello, again

Hello

 

come find me passion

maraud across my open spaces

my steppes, swept and dried

tinged and longing for

infinity

where an echo is out-run

where lines are drawn and forgotten

like desire that apes only

the very best moments.

All definition and certainty

subsumed in the haste

to consume a lavish meal.

drowned and spent

The residue. A crust

a lost love affair,

all misty

and so I go

to each new day

an addition. a loss, a stroke

an explosion of now.

My wife

My wife. pic for poem

 

she lies naked on the bedroom floor

doing  yoga poses, utterly exposed

these are the moments I like best

one leg drawn into the waist

a scissor of flesh in soft light

the darker shape of body hair obscured

an ineluctable triangle of mute desire

and we talk and share this shared space

this one, of many, moments that accrue

to form a comfortable bond. a union of trust

then I will go and do something quite mundane, like

clean my teeth or make a cup of tea

as she unfurls in blind nakedness to stretch

into another pose that readies her for the day

that we go toward, together, as innocents

Nowhere man

 

Nowhere man. pic for poem

 

a vagrant slouches in the doorway

like a bee fallen softly into apathy

and he glances at a waste bin with shallow contempt

for its dismal offerings and the fanfare of flies

that guard the lurid bounty of spent purchases

so casually tossed away

 

lunch-time in the metropolis and the big game

stroll oblivious to those who lie wounded

their hours of need yawning into a squeezed frame

as his eyes focus on something far away

beyond all this unpleasantness,  just like the bee,

quiet before the fall into a long silence

Shut eye

Shut eye. pic

 

I am not charmed by the mocking essence

in my dreams

how they tear the lids from the innocent viscosity

of my eyes

and wake me with words that appear to be squeezed

through an aperture of hope that was obviously closed down

aeons ago

is it shame?

is it grief?

that so much loss should pine in my waking head and

churn about and be perplexed by loss and hurt that will

it seems

forever dance in a sensual act of disentanglement

so I languish in this morbid state and hope

for a cessation of the wagging fingers that follow me

Dog logic

 

Dog logic. pic

 

the river today is a gun-ruffled grey

hard faced to the wind, which

we are told, is from Siberia

freakish in March

because the jet-stream has been reversed

so now snow lays amid the rigid stalks of grass

whose defiant green blades wait

like old campaigners for the thaw

which, when it comes,

will render all of this to the long march of history

but in a hot opportunistic streak

Tinkerbell steals one of Daphne’s gloves and runs

in a tumult of fur away with her prize

Kiki sets to barking and bossing the other dogs

whilst we, keepers of the leads, huddle in the warmth

of our shared solidarity

wearing daft hats against the elements

making small talk and putting cement

into the cracks of adversity.