He was all of eighteen summers,
She: just seventeen short winters.
In love; he connected fully with spring,
In love; her longing best served in autumn.
Together they lasted all but four seasons.
And yet years later; as they recall,
They’re split was for no reason at all.
When faces stick to names… then they’re gone completely;
Slow burning from the unsmoked fires of rainbow coloured flame.
As sentences of broken code are pillowed, all memory weathered in sheet lightning, reflections of you lie as you reflect on delayed whispers; that speed you through to inevitable sleep.
Flow your tears
Connecting with rain
Dripping with gravity
Drop racing
Off your chin
Swerving
Plummeting down
Your raincoat
Leaping
Dangling precarious
From your footsteps
Nourishing on touch
Do upon their landing
Shake dandelion manes
Electrify buttercups neon
Daisy-chain a pathway
To somebody loved
Someone who waits for you
To dry your cheeks
Dehumidify lingering mists
Hold chilled emotions
Like a cool pebble in a new sun
Smoothed with soft fingers
Under crows feet
And umbrella
Then you disappear
In a buttoned fabric shelter
Merging tributary
Into heavy flesh of loving arms
Home time
Gonna get up
Gonna write something
Get up
And write
Write Something
Something great
The best ever
The number one
Gonna get up
Here it comes
Gonna write
Something
Something great
Here it comes now…
Ok, tomorrow then
Drowsy
Late summer bugs
Fly dive
Looping
Scuttle drunken
Lazily in ale
Under chilled verticals
Daggers of British rain
Flooding them magnetic
Unto themselves
Toddlers
The unloving
The programmed
Flutter precarious
With microscopic futures
Gumming abreast
Billions of batches
Altogether connected
Too impossibly dense
Worlds of forestation
Of extraordinary family trees
…
Slowed to pause
Behind
The intensity of wake turbulence
The sucking energy of undertow
In the midst
Of trembling heat-haze
Sandwiched
Between ever-decreasing circles
Before
An echo followed
By a future muted echo
And delay is breeding its alarm
People bugs
Engulfed and entwined
Contained and compressed
In webs of self-inflicted time
Spun
By manmade life
–
Deep in the night
You’re living your life lonely
Strung out before the dawn
Standing in the lounge
Silent
Motionless
Dumb
Rush blended
On palette
Many shades of night
Exhausted by being awake
And self-consciously
More awake than ever necessary
Overcome by the nocturnal
But sleep is somewhere
Someplace
Misplaced
Lone
Temporarily in common with
You
The water rushes in
As an irresistable force
Towards distant twinkling lights
There
Miniature soldiers
Talk amongst each other
And their glow bugs
Sleep flying
Over and on crumbly cake ramparts
So overlooked
By a hovering fluoresent luna
Showering its moonbeams
While particular water
Lick sandcastles
Fragile upon themselves
With amateurish foundations
And so it’s true!
By children they are best made
They so do implore
The Little
Are softly strengthening
Tatty-bent-books
The boundless
Seeping
In old folklore
Please read this now!
It’s irrelevant; void,
As of now; by the end of today.
In the t’s and c’s;
Near the end; in invisible print…
(somewhere here),
Can you see?
It should say!
Half-a-pence
Of nonsense
And a teardrop
Of morose
Slow drowned
With canned
Laughter
And nothing
Comes close
I Eat Let.ers 