You are a precious stone to me

a bejewelled meteor that swiftly flew in

from Saturn, carrying

…spewing Lunar dust

Heady sunsoaked daylight that uncovered my thoughts

like dice, giant boulders gone

I lost face to an upturned dome that sparkled earth

As it revolved slowly like a turquoise record

Taping the ridges it heard and hears

It remembers.


My love shed its romantic shuttles

light years ago

Interlocking fingers turned into hands that swim like the silver fishes

in the course of the same tide

A swell…a shoal of optimism.

We sing, rejoicing water-filled songs that

dance like fountains from ancient dolphins’ mouths

Our teeth still beam and smile always for

more sea, more sun, more love, more sailing.

The wild private world is hidden safe, my love,

from the concrete and tarmac architecture of civilisation

It is watertight

a constant cocoon of wide waxed leaves

an oasis in a bone china cup of our delicate skeletons

Cushioned in animal-shaped clouds that dare the sun

to hide in its blue grease of youth.


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Etch me in rock
and make me live
You are the Lion man
And you have water for veins
Your eyes are the caves
of the world.

You see the Sun until it
vanishes underneath the anticipation
of tomorrow, or never again;
that matters not because
we are eternal
embroidered trinkets like
Neanderthal’s teeth

Release a verse into the sky
As if that’s all you can ever
while cicadas chirp their electric
Charcoal on the walls smudges
wood wind, sand chimes and snow drums
A primal orchestra
with lungs as pianos on an ivory ribcage

And I am the foam on the crest of a wave
I lap 
You find a cavity that hid for
10,000 years and still echoes
thyme, honey, ancient figs
the scent from the glass wings of bees

Did you walk with the wolves then
or were you burnt in the fire
of knowing too much? Did you hunt in packs?
Where did all the laden animals go?
Will they return like meteors into our
so we could touch.

I’m a haunted house sailing towards
the giant squid of night
Sails like ghostly pillowcases,
billowing with reckless anticipation
A chalky residue of my romantic gene.
I smell roses, lilies, violets…my
skull doesn’t let me down.

You’re the parting in my hair
Caressing me in an abandoned vineyard
You’re precise like spearheads
Yet I prance like clouds of mosquitoes at dusk
All is curls and down from innocent vagueries
Do you trust my sketch, lover…architect?
I comb you through my hair.


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