means

I don't know what it all means
The toing and froing
Taking me out at the seams

It pulls you one way
The next
Pushing them up
Like dead mens bones after the flood

Pressure like the drowned weight of memory
I recall the breath, the glance, the requests of habit
Washed away now, circling that drain
Of monstrous miscalculations.

A bitter taste, toast left too long by the fire
Singed eyebrows and fingers burnt
I'll never know if it was too much or not enough
And again, and again, and again.

poison

A twisted knife in the
Darkness.

I choose not to see the spreading
Poison.
It taints the terrors I wake to in nighttime
Walks. The running and fleeing from domestic dread.

You left it inside me without my knowledge.
A curse paid forward of neglect and un-care
We thought in royal plural but there was never a pair.
Just spinning atoms in that slant of light,
Certain only of that predetermined end.

So all that is left are questions and ticking
That purple thread weaving through my days
I know that hiding is no way to move
But what else can i do.

tokens

the element of surprise

not at all what she thought it would be -
the handholding and vase collecting.
instead a pertinent question and the
questing
for an honest action amongst the blades of grass.

each curlicue of misplaced terror
and the longed-for scent of the missing piece
made me feel like you were coming back just in time for the solution

why was it that as we watched each other over the abandoned instruments
and hope stood in the way of the purpled bruise
i still reached out and pulled your head to my shoulder

and forever being such a long way off
and unthinkable in the current climate,
we still asked each other for the tokens that would let us
sleep.

mantlepiece

let all the time go
to the man in the tower on high
there is no hope in loving and
no hope arising to the blue sky
but if you know
then it comes from the
clock on the mantlepiece

why do the children laugh
when the world is in trouble and pain
oh if memory's a curse then why live it all again

and it ends
but in the time of the rainbow's sigh
will we all meet
and tremble at the
flower pinned to your ear


fly fly fly
over
time

measuring cups of grain
follow the road that leads to me again
purchase the man in the silver scarf
make sure that he delivers the heart
to the
scuff-mark at your door.

munch

no no no no

in the blackness, i walked past the neon green sign.
it tells me about the steeple and the minaret
and how they stand and stood.
the lady with the black hair and the grease-smeared smock
asks me what it'll be
and i look up at the sky and
decide.

i push the things to one side,
clutter and muck left behind in the rush.
the counter lasts all of two minutes
and i try not to lean on my elbows.

cannot help but peer around,
craving the fire that would put out all the rain pattering down.
the girls beside me have a wet umbrella
which matches the sheen on their used plastic jackets.
i smile at the old man as he pulls up across
and try not to stare at the unshaven boys
in their boisterousness.

could i sit here for hours
imagining - extrapolating - the stories in the hubbub around me
the whispers and tales of woe
the giggles and covert glances
and all the moments lost to a strawberry milkshake
or a banana split
with extra chocolate sauce and no walnuts.

get a little closer and meet her eyes as she pushes at me.
they'll never get me.
an island in a sea.
the stream of soda swishing
around
and sandwiching
the sounds.

for the trek out side is for later
and the music will hit my face
but until then,
munch.

rain

his jaw was cracking as it slipped over mine
my arms reached out to pull the knife from his back
when the tide is frozen on these ancient creatures
i watched the sunrise tell me all the things it had to say.

purposefully opening the jars of bleeding pickles
ending all the summers that we spent along the beach
a child with two thin flowers pushed right up against his hair
mourning all the ones he couldn't reach.

parasites, they feed and anger everything i hold within
the tree that steals the baby from right underneath your nose.
and if the patter of the rain against my brow was stopped
i feel sometimes as though i never knew you.

inexplicable

but its gonna be alright this time...

once the sky began to shatter
all the moments wandering beneath
the open blue umbrella
watching the time.

then all the bears in all the world did look up and did say
why the morning smelt so sweet
why the sunset made me feel
as though i ought to weep.

running through a forest,
feel the eyes of anxious prey.

walking through the suburbs,
hearing all the calls to pray
for yesterday.

stop and ask me whether i had seen the black parade.
wonder at the touching of the self by restless youths
upon the brave
day.

glancing at the man with the uzi wrapped about his neck.
staring at the girl who stares out of the shop.
pursing your parched lips as the screaming tie gets on his soapbox.
helping the old lady cross the street,
an inexplicable desire to sleep.