a white rag rides on the wind
flip flopping on the urgent breath
that rasps against roofs and eaves
as it complains against closed spaces
beneath all this I sit and stew
a quiet thing, compressed
alone in the vessel of my separateness
acquiring a taste for solitude
and gaze with growing detachment
at the scrap of white as it waves
with a careless detachment outside
receding into an unknowable distance
beyond
imagine it. just beyond
the fledgling on a ledge
deep space beyond and more
that miasma of fear which constricts
every tissue and fibre and
unknowable thing
from taking a leap of faith
brother, sister, mother, father, friend
watch over me for I am one
who knows how it feels to stall mid-flight
at that precipice
and court the most unholy thoughts
to allow any manner of darkness in
but in my heart and in my soul
I know I am here because
the ones before me took that leap
they loved me
and I will honour them
stars, the shards of a shattered universe
cry, tear drops on a canvas of dreams
we shall never inhabit for they are
just echoes of a time long dead
it is all I have
and I have known love
but it is still a gaping
sense of loss
my mother’s endless encouragement
a vapour now that she has gone
my wit, my charm, my accomplishments
just crumbs on a well worn floor
my love of poetry
an idolatry for the patterns words weave
is always moderated by an X-Ray
that filters through me
looking for scar tissue and wounds
that might build a case
for a better model
more robust in the ways of the world
but these moments are
refugees in a crisis of confidence
bound in nightmares to roam
in uncertainty
programmed to return
wanton with a savage lust
to rent and sunder
where sunlight would prefer to rest.
I am the morsel
A chatter box, blah blah
I’ll have a laugh
Forget the past
Those days that are now in ruins
And tears still run
Still come to visit
At times that are not appropriate
They are just calling cards
Markers of doused flames
And now the mist lays down
When birdsong punctuates
Silence and blank thoughts
Which are pre-cursors
To another day in flight
My shoulders rounded, I am hunched
As instructed
Facing away from a man
With sharp steel in his hand
The cold eye of that needle
Contains unsentimental fluid
Poised and loaded with the logic
That will take me away
Before long I am gone
Off into a prayer
My ignorance all wrapped
In total and utter surrender
There could be bird-song
For I am tethered to air
Or the soft parting of warm lovers lips
I am gone
Take me and render me
Your clinical skills
Your cold hearted craft
Are now beyond natural law
Get over it
I am the hole in my entirety
A doubt in the mass of humanity
Each breath I take, a rehearsal
For another crack at dismal
I am tension in taught wires
A cough in the orchestra pit
All of me spot-lit and disappearing
In simpering pools of shame
On some well trodden stage
Flecked with dust and grease paint
The motes of haunted fabric
Gauzy in the lights
And I wait
For somebody to find me out
A specialist of the shadows
A spectre of the show
To heckle
And shout my name.
Not lost. Not yet
Not still, one voice
But the eyes on the soul
Are listening
And from this the change may come
From the many dwellings
A troubled mind inhabits
Only the promise of a cacophony
Will spoil the view
And guarantee a war
Hostages may be the prize in battles
But internal feuds
Feed on the choicest victim
For mercy is a distant flag
That flutters behind the walls of shame
Own up to the one small voice
In stillness. The mute salute
A call that circles out beyond
Everything that scares you
Embrace it all and bring it home.
