Bun

She did not know me

How could she have

I was new to these parts

New to this kind of life

But not without talent

A strong imaginative outlook

With a clear watching brief

All here are working

Sat in line; writing, reading

Studying, copulating

With our, and their thoughts

Also, every Thursday afternoon

A game of cards in the corner

How one walks, or rather squiggles

Says something

About the workings of the mind

How one stands, erect

While fixing milk and sugar

Speaks volumes about your style

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High Life

I would never have caught it

Not in the firmament so to speak

Yet I did catch it

In the moment as you might say

That brilliant tea-time blue sky

Washing behind the pink-tint clouds

Setting up the approaching crest-red sunset

Yet you only have my words

To persuade you of the beauty

So let's backtrack

To the supermarket car park

Laden with shopping

Too busy to see the outlook

Before driving West

Along the floor

Of the tree lined valley

Then climbing North

Up the steep hillside

This was for sure a race, time

Against natures clock, which

I was certain, sure beyond doubt
That I was always destined to lose

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Mark Me

It is a decision

Yet not like any other one

In that sense unique

Which usually appeals

How to analyse the rest of life:

Which tick boxes to choose to tick

Which spreadsheets to spread out

Which actuaries to ask for advice

With such indecision

I join with every other one

In that sense we are all the same

Which I usually steer away from

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Push

Mostly I have been holding back

Most times I don't half-near say

What it is I wanted to say

There is another place where I write

Passionate poetry

Yet even there I am unable to scream

I am unable to tear

At the words of  anguish & love &

Despondency & life & pleasure &

Wonder & fun; I am just unable

I am unable, unable to find the words

That remind me

That remind me of your skin, your

Breath, your touch, you hands, your

Toes, your knees, your thighs

I am unable to find these words

I am unable to revisit those places

And on this snowy morning I am

Unable to think about how it is to cry

To scream, to tear, to rage; I am unable

Even to think of the words that might

Say these things to me, I am unable

To even think how I might beat the floor

Or beat my brains, or beat every rhythm

In my hurt hurt heart, I am unable

And as the traffic slows & the nerves

Frazzle & the head aches & the tummy

Gives rise to the nauseous taste of sick

O for those mornings, when the sun shone

When life shone, when I shone; o for

Those mornings, will I ever find

Those words again, why am I unable

Will the breath return, will the peace

Return, will the time return, will

The thoughts and the hopes, will

They all return, will I once again be

Freed from being unable

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Togetherness

Her smile is

The smile of the morning

The smile of 

One who is cared for

The smile of one who is caring

Her laughter

And that playful turn of phrase

'Just stop it' 'just stop it'

Why shouldn't I be happy

With her smile, and her turn of phrase

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