Easy to attract kind-less control, swallow it
for healing later. He asks if I could drop
the poetry, emotion, joy and soul
that compel me to skip in sun, make love
with stars and smile at random
black holes trying to be bright. Lighten up,
I reply through clouds and fuzzy dreams.
My beat’s a crazy crow in a quantum heart;
I absorb sunlight intravenously, dance
in the car park to a rhythm that defies you
every time. By the way, that’s a flame
melting your achilles’ heel to ironic dust.
If anyone should look for you on my phone for emergency,
blackmail or the paparazzi, there would be no trace
but for a random number which you could always say was
some weird mistake because, for sure, you never knew me.
I deleted everything. It was stupid, thinking that you meant
for me to hold your words, thoughts or, goddess
be amazed, feelings. So my phone is empty of our contact.
The rest will take a bit more precious time but I’m sick
of being someone’s secret and I’m gone, never was kept
more than seconds on your soul or memory card.
Yet, for a while, I dallied in your palm and felt happy, safe.
Waiting for a word from you – city tyres spin,
tread shining magic into rainy roads.
Sensing a storm horses scream on the moor,
churn dark earth toward clouds, gathering
freedom can get furious.
I want to love you – but it seems cannot –
when the smoke clears, will you still be here?
*yes, linked to previous poem ..
photo: Lars van de Goor
At night a heavy rush of wings
over the deep lake disturbs everything.
I long to touch you but cannot
temper my approach, a complex desire,
crazy to break through
your glossy surface, blurred with gravity.
art : Pinot
a collision force rushing towards impact
I crash through fleshy walls, climb into space
and disappear until the sun explodes
blind crazy dreams of sanity;
your hand is calm and steady creates
thunder in my ocean pulse ready to go wild
and fall, complete and heavy, curving into glassy sand.
your logic’s beautiful to my windswept soul
though I fight it sometimes, just to know more of you.
I’d hoped for stars but after all that you denied
outright knowledge of their names.
I tested you, what’s this or that, pointing out bright
patterns in black sky, fingers glowing
moonish magic and pure expectation only to be
grounded like those garish toys in your garden
where the vegetables failed without explanation.
I know you lied because you said that you could not,
your fury at the garden was irrational, contrived.
Rejection of each star was worse.
You knew every one but refused to share
anything that might shine too close;
like the photo on your dresser,
just another nameless piece of spinal pain.
On deck the man is cradling a large fish for the camera; its silver skin flows lightly over heavy hands. He talks about the fish, admires form and muscled ocean-art. The fish is calm, moves like it’s breathing. He extends one curving gill, careful with the structure raised now like a wing about to catch the wind. Arced like a wave about to fall. The fish is breathing, drowning gracefully.
There is no space for me in yours. Not really, not even in imagination’s optimistic scanning of the broken clutter. Headless gothic lamps support two dolls and pictures of your love, lost in suicide. Your morphine tablets lie, scattered seed at her goddess feet. Her dainty feet, bare and fading, behind dusty glass. She stands alone for the camera. Her gaze is always to the right of you, no matter where you stand. No matter where I stand. No contact with the past, just the constant thought of it. You talk about her carefully. Admire her nature, note how her essence shone when you took away the colours that she loved to wear. She never needed them to be beautiful, you crow. I am flowing from your hands, trying to remember why I will not meet your eye, why I hold my breath when it seems that you might speak.