Do you
What’s the word I used, I forget
On the theme of to infuriate
But I guess on a more regular basis
Not you
Never mind that I forget
Even less need I discriminate
Yes I guess now and forever always
More than minor observations
On the road
We sing songs of detectives
And private investigations
My indivisible blue period
Someway short of levitation
Is over
My wild rover devoid
I sold nothing at all
Yet always
Always for the highest price
Always to the tightest bidder
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Cow & Calf
River on the flattened valley
Forgive the thermal spas
And the candelabra
At the wishing well
We wish them well
Truth to tell
It was on a school trip to the abbey
The sisters and I
And a hunk of Cistercian monks
Making wine
And catching fishes in the water
Blunt, to the point
Overtaken in the making
Our teacher
Your mother and father
Or your cousin
Or daughter, or son
Anyhow, no need to shout, or blame
We side stepped the stones
Stepping backwards through the water
About turn; hell, hellfire; year five, not ever
No more the same
No, not ever again
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Every colour in the many
Multifarious flower arrangements
Every shade
Says something about you
Your gaiety; flaming red
Your tenderness; softest yellow
Your waistcoat; gregarious green
Your sky; of the deepest blue
Your white waves; splash in that
Sensual way only you bestowed
Every word in the many
Mixed up messages of goodbye
Every line
Lays down something about you
Your honesty; open and true
Your forgiveness; surest you
Your individual; rare remarks
Your light; in nighttime parks
Your tight curves; sway in that
Sexual way only you dared to show
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Two tribes
One before the other one
Two cries
Of galore, one before the other one
Soon we see light
Down corridors
And open doors
Entrance from my mother's son
Ease into daylight
Into the workman's lot
Here before dawn
Here beyond dusk
Twin sights
Straight down the smoking gun
Moon nights
Curled up toes in winter’s sun
Maybe we might
Like clover come
In the hand-held plight
Of time undone
Say no more
Let us shout galore
Dolores; call for Delacroix
That’s all this time, dear boy
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| Available on Amazon |
The book talks about finding that place
Of the unknown
This is my kind of book, sensitive sentiments
Which wash over my toes on into my bloodstream
In meditation or religion or sacred sacrifice
A quiet moment, a creeping of the nape hair
Yesterday through the window, through the mirror
The lost lonely face in touch with her own unknown
Should I interrupt, would that have been to care
Somehow instructed I drove on, and onwards
I did not leave you, you are with me
I do not grieve for you, please believe me
I open the post, an invitation to the resurrection
Unlike most, I have been there, I carry you easily
I wiggle my toes, perfectly formed within
I know no sin, I smile deep and knowing
You will never return to hold my hand
Yet forever you will be beside me
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| Available on Amazon |