Unusually I am keeping going

I am on my way

To somewhere of little interest

I keep going

For something usual may occur

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Fundamental

To superficially soak

In the stupendous stupor

Of not even half understanding

The weighty tome before me

With style, form, scholarly

Vocabulary; a resonant

Ambiguity holds me transfixed

By its inadmissible beauty

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Kras

Two sparrows and two children

Two adults buy two ice creams

Two whitewashed walls to sit upon

Two buttons carefully undone

Two aprons of the hovercrafts skirt

Two swellings in your cotton shirt

Two adults lift two happy children

Two shire horses draw the carriage

Two islands washed in innocent sun

One marriage skillfully wrecked 

One love, selfless & helplessly half won

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Barrier

Have the sense to use those other mens words
Such that your own sensitivity is protected
Hold back your empty tears with their thoughts
Such that your scars will wash off easy as mascara

Let those wandering poets shake the blossom
While you are magnified by the blue skies
That they may talk of doubt and grief and longing
To depths that your imagination needs not imagine



From the Collection One Crow to a Tree - Love in Separate Houses available from Lulu

Still Life

The artist suggests that the image is a stillness; for myself the image is a precursor to movement, a springboard to set the emotions flushing, a kick-start to the stories of yesteryear, a lambast for tales of even before the time of time itself

A small back doorway; room enough for two to shelter, from the swift and short spring storms; room enough to stand alone, with wetting eyes, as the garden brush is fired in the dry dirt of summer; room enough to laugh on ones return home, after the birth of the prodigal son; room enough for two to part, over the spilt milk possession of a gas bill; room enough to have held all those times, yet passed them over for a new life

The artist’s stillness is suggestive; he opens you to way more than the entirety of all my wasteful words; he asks of you to enter, to stand in his space, a holding point that is less than a passage, less even than half a passage; he asks you to wait there, perhaps to hear Vaughan Williams’ timeless Larks Ascending waft on the breeze from a distant room

You do wait there; as you endlessly waited for me; as you stood alone, with shaking hands, in that vestibule; your salted tears streaming of self recrimination; you, a worn and sunken soul; you in search of the storm, that would forever fire you into oblivion

From the Collection One Crow to a Tree - Love in Separate Houses available from Lulu