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Wednesday 4 March 2015

17

I am listening to Christmas songs
Sat alone in the empty coffee bar
I sort of wonder
How will cleaning the windows increase trade

I am outnumbered by the staff
To a ratio of at least five to one
And, as they are all wearing headsets
You could say they are well connected

The hotel and airport are across the way
In another week or so
The holiday traffic will reach its peak
And I might write about another vacation


Tuesday 3 March 2015

16

What does it matter what I write
That I write yes I said I love you
That I write yes you said you loved me
That I write, yes once
We loved each other didn't we

I could write of meadow and machair
Of azure blue sea and golden sand
Of drinking cocktails under skies vermillion
I could write also, of that sultry night
When you asked me to shave you Brazilian

Of course in the search for truth and beauty
There is an opportunity to be more expansive
To write of skiing on snow capped mountain
To write of white water rafting, and
Of dancing late, in the Trevi fountain


Monday 2 March 2015

15

Tree of daylight moon, with sky of pink stripe blue
The faraway soul sings, yes my friend it's true
Ever so calm now, you know you can't accrue

Ground of effortless frost, with North light new
Your deeper call sways, yes my friend it's true
With this peace now, you know you can't go through

Water of wave lapped shore, with hopeful sunrise hue
The lighter drawl stays, yes my friend it's true
Among this love now, you know you can't undo


Sunday 1 March 2015

14

There is the ache, I don't need to fake it
Why try to escape, there is no way you'd make it
Remember the darkness, remember the lights in the tree
Remember the wood-burner, remember just what you see

Feel for its silent entrance, is that any more than chance
Through the hearts gape, surges the heartaches lance
Remember the warmth, remember the lasting view
Remember the arms around, remember casting you

How swift it departs, how often it strays
No more need to chart, these are forever days
Remember the solitude, remember the sin of debt
Remember the breakout, remember the winter let


Saturday 28 February 2015

13

I could write as if I was a tree, but I am not, nor ever have been a tree of any kind
I could write as if I was the sea, but if you inspect closely that is not true I think you will find
I could write of seas, and trees, and wannabes, but how could I write about me

I could write of those eighteen-thousand nights of making love or masturbating, and wonder at how the body is so efficacious in recovery
I could write of those fifteen-thousand mornings of waking up, together or alone, embraced by joy or pain, and wonder at the minds ability for reinvention
I could write of sleep and sex, yet still I expect, I could not write about me