beneath this cloudless sky

beneath this cloudless sky there is nowhere to hide. the epitome of naked. motives are questioned. their magnitude in relation to hearts. i trace the constellations in and beyond my own flight path and wear the contradictions like a second skin.

earth quakes

the moment when the light
begins to dissolve the night.
that is the poem.
part of the poem. but really
it's everything. the whole world
is the poet and the poem
singing it's miracle and lament.

the room is perfumed with incense.
your conscience is clean.

as though through magnetic force
the river pulls you
with the liquid silver motion
of it's cold cold water
to cool your own molten feelings
pulsing strong. rippling out in waves.

and try as they might they cant
seem to muffle the resonance
with their indifferent faces
whose emptiness can be read
like the books that pave your floor.

this is the time of year
where even the birds have left.
fitting really. both you
(who is him) and
your absence eclipse the rest.
even the stars still do their twinkling
between the comforting glare
of the street lights.

there's a significant lack of elbow room
in these shallow graves
decorated with bloody teeth.

yet you feel a hand,
your own, reaching through
the bones of your chest. the cage of ribs.
pulling yourself out...

the lover. the prayer

the morning is tinged with blue. im exhaling warm clouds and coming to the realisation that this body isnt big enough for me to scratch the names of all i love. i'm moving onto the walls. the already written pages. making new maps. searching for the life behind eyes. even those whose smiles cannot disguise their disenchantment...i worship the god in you. all of you. in me. in the books and the trees and earth and i eat all the rainbows. the strings of words one pearl at a time. until what? until i reach the hearts and mouths from whence they came. and then? nothing and everything. only the knowledge that my desire continues to expand until i can no longer touch the edges. and you. carved in stone made flesh forever standing in the centre of the storm.

this is no night of quiet stars

a dare perhaps.

to do more
than dip your toe in this ocean
as all the unswum seas
smash against the contours
of our earthly bodies in which
you have as many lives
as skins.

where the movement
of your body gestures
at the meaning.

this self portrait in words
growing
like the shadows
as the day stretches
out into dark amplifying
the thunder in your bones.

this is no night of quiet stars..

even in the dark. red.

inwardly the worlds secreted culminate and bond, pearl-like, as the night erodes the boundaries until mostly blood remains rising and crashing like the sea then the tide turns into the discovery that you're the price i pay for the skeleton key held hidden beneath my tongue with the power to unlock every universe you give birth to.

*



*

“My only way of speaking is through fragments which are like
Stones that must be lifted with their share of shadow
And against which we stumble
Being more scattered than they are.”

“But perhaps every day we can gather up again
The torn net, stitch by stitch,
And it would be, in the higher spaces,
Like sewing the night together star by star…”

“Say nothing: what you were going to say
Would only drown the sound.
Only listen: the doors have opened.”

~ Philippe Jaccottet, Le Mot Joie

forced through the hole pierced in time

undead eyes. sibylline. separating and pulling the threads together. the ones that shine. each of us the heart. breaking and swelling. creating moments eluding the notion of circumstance. real yet awaiting realisation. and all that defies articulation. in the chaos. in the still air that sharpens the sounds of this barely believable annunciation. the shape of the words thought and (un)spoken, the colours with which the world is composed and seen, all symbols. the truth's shape changes. dependent on the angle of perception and your painted heart.

regarding visions

the inbetween time.
a world of subdued colours
and bare bones.

ghostly white hovering
over the ground.
as though the fields
were breathing.

the quiet teachers.

emerging
through the apparent confusion
of silence,
a hazy simplification.

secret worlds
violently throb
in invisible places.
hidden
beneath the smoothness
of the surface.

behind smiles.

premonitions
of things unknown,
only felt.

unrepentant
non-confessions.
glass chimes.

i am the point
where the light splits.

becoming
increasingly concave.
forever expanding.
forever allowing for more.
looking for a bridge, or
something, i cannot find.


*


"all the lands are ready to rise
from the map.
to shake off their skin of stars
to tie the blue bundles of their seas
on their backs
to set their mountains with fiery roots
as caps on their smoking hair.."

~ nelly sachs, from and no one knows where to go