Kiki

Kiki

 

I take the dog out for a walk

though for her it’s an exercise

in reading the morning papers, sniffing out the headlines

and finding those hidden meanings

that  make her want to squat

and piss upon what passes for news

 

In the early stages she is simply intent

on the leader articles and local items

waiting until she has emptied her bowels

kicked back at the earth to cover her tracks

and swaggered off while I bag up the mess

before she goes on to the gossip and sport

 

We go on like this around the rugby pitches

and through a latch gate to a narrow path

that acts as a bridal way both of us navigate with different hopes;

hers that she will see a horse, a rabbit or squirrel to chase,

mine, that it will unravel  peacefully until we turn left

onto common ground and the relative safety of the park.

Listening for rain

 

Listening to rain.pic for poem

 

nobody asks that I should write

so I go blind to words, those seedlings

in a field of dreams gone fallow

and my fingers get lazy

as they atrophy around the tools

that let my soul identify pain

 

 this sloth hangs heavy on its threads

raggedly denying the cold

but without a sense of cause

as everything within becomes forlorn

and travel, that feeling of impetus,  is second-class

slow and likely to be misplaced

 

softly drips spill against the glass

like diffident soldiers in a phoney war

knock knocking and asking for a doctor, who

will listen to my complaints

and earnestly look into my eyes and say

next please.

inside out

inside out. pic for poem

 

that stranger in the mind sits

as if on a tightrope

suspended between heaven and earth

convinced somehow that sense will shine

and YOU will blush from the pleasure

of bearing witness to greatness

YOU will take a token of spent love

tossed off as a casual gift

and be blessed by that contaminate

 

Only time in it’s wise fractions

will testify

spreading gaunt strips of doubt

and shake those deluded notions

until life or death can be resolved

to sanction that sense of loss

bestowing gravity on your conceit

for that stranger in the mind

must be exposed

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.

variation on a crow

variation on a crow. pic

 

oblivious black                                                                                                         

like blown litter,  he                                                 

a rag on a branch perches                                  

with the suggestion of blue in his wings           

 and electricity shielding a heart beat

below  rapacious eyes that witness the rise

as he smears the air with nonchalance and knows

any loss of height, any turbulence

won’t kill him because sin is dark

and his feathers are without recrimination

so  he taunts me with his lightness of being

 and the complicity of his dark humour

somehow knowing that his death and mine

have been foretold

equinox

equinox. pic

 

pearlescent light on down

glows softly white

the swan, regal in its habitat

glides on the mirror of last night’s dreams

oblivious

to all but history and her mate

today

coming on the back of time

which shifted seasons and stepped one hour back

so now the dark water sucks

the summer’s heat into its depths

and all of this the mute swan

reflects