Some time and a little care
Bolstered high and forbearing no little moment
To squeeze upon the shore
An infinity of shape
Delighful and opaque
Confected undulations upon a vagrant heart
Satrap embrace
Brought convivial privilege
Across a languid lawn
Stretched forlorn and equivocal
But far from meandering sentience
Steering a path straight and true
Half-way to paradise
Sometimes I wish I was a penguin
Flying under the waves of silent seas
You and me together is never going to rhyme
You and me together can never be in time
Only there where never bends
The unimagined I
There, in night's fell sigh
She waits, incandescent
Poised, delinquent and complete
Sun you under a sultry sky
Riddled with shame and quiet grief
Stretched between strands of contentment
And run upon by winds
Like a sigh she sat
Contained all imagination
Frailty caste aside
Upon a river going nowhere at all
Shone like a mirror dark and guilded on the wall
Empty with no reflection
What story there
What storm before the fall
City boy sitting in far away places
Where the past flies buried unseen
Found deep in forgotten traces
Remnants of deeds unsaid
Skin is the only thing I'm in I'm in
Was all he could think or swim
Upon her ocean's tender sleep
Ripped apart by unseasonable temptations
She stepped like a whisper
Into the howl of a gale
Tossed upon a bedlam sea
She dreamed a life entire
Of candlesticks and turtledoves
And sweet fulfilled desire
But merely discourteous
His lips steel
Feigned a monstrous sympathy
To ooze worthless sentience
Upon her fearful eye.
The rise of the bell
In short sharp steps
Sent rivers of blame
Into high dark sets
Tumbling down on her wicked ways
Till an unrepentant
Sun
Sang
Sweetly
To its dying day
Sliding past floors
Unvisited in night's bright trespass
Leaner than long
And sweeter than strong
Standing as One they stared
But no tension could find
No awkward surmise
Could lead them away
From Seven
Succinct in serenity
She walks towards me
Her heart unloaded with clouds
The sadness of memories
Unstained and quite free
Like rippling curtains of colour
Across a darkly dormant land
Her Being scatters
Intimations of fine feelings
And impossible delight
While undoing all her fixtures
Easing into yet another wave of possibilities
Always at the lip of Spring
Fitting her infinity into tiny cups
Of pretty porcelained passion
And with the wings of memory
We dress our earth-bound self
Soaring to imagination's
Clear light.
Pernicious waffle she says will be the making of a tale too tall to tell
Too small to sell
But turned on a whisper
Whose breath entranced appetite’s fading whim
And before shards of exhausted light did melt
The sight of her percussive sensibility
She learned of her sister’s art
And found the test too lame to stir her sorry heart.
