of science and religion. gravity magnets choice and chance

needing not to reinvent
the beginnings devoured
with swollen lips.

the taste lingers still
upon eager tongue.
greedy memory.

speaking of certainties
i adore the way you seek
my hand with your own.

touch the centre.
make me shake.

you are no dark horse
and i draw in definite lines.

lightbearers shapeshift only to the untrained eye. divide the winds by more than four.

once i entered
the hollow belly of the oak.
his skirt raised in beckoning.

pondered the spires
that pierce the sky.
grey fingers pointing a/way.

the brickwork beneath exposed

sleep tight. night flight.

a mosaic of sound
through which a pin dropped
quietening mother of pearl,
crystal voices.
pulling the threads tighter.

i sing to the gods
who made it
that you would reciprocate
so beautifully..

"she wasn't doing a thing that i could see, except standing there"

a sky of violet
diluted with morning.

erik satie plays.

whilst sleeping
you undress my dreams

slowly fading the memory.
old bite marks on hands.

at the vanishing of the light i wonder
for what it is you pray.

i think about the lone flower on the stair.

and you
born from dust
blown and shaped by the wind.




title taken from a line from "a girl i knew" by j.d.salinger

the clarity of the evening only blurs what it means

on this darkening day windows
pour gold on the stone.
trees rain confetti.
old lives shed to start again.

..me? I'm the world's wife.
married to life.

the city a feast for the senses.

the saxophone tune a woven ribbon
of notes rising to curl
round the corner. a girl
holds her coat tight
around herself. heavy curtains,
a movable wall,
concealing the lives inside.

foreign tongues sing of their day.

i think of the darts
down the horse's spine and swallow
the ring i need not on my finger
because it means more
than I understand.

learning to sing like the trees and the grass

correlations are mapped
between undetermined lines.

between the moons
- my third eye.

the heart's burden,
that knows
like a changing seascape
the delicate kiss
of water and sky.

of fragility and power.

of white static fizzing,
but not behind bone,
where there is anything
(everything) but dark silence.