what a tongue flick. a comet-tail
a touch of poison; a fluid sail
lithe
raised upright in a misty wood
to catch winds for long-abandoned boats 
a land-loch, waiting for heaven 
waiting, like I would 

pressed against a door frame 
mounded from earth and ash 

a home writ upon 
these hostile lands:
a space of teeming life 
mistook greens and greys
blotches and heightened braille
 on...

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Let the dreamless boy to cry 
If his wish to fly has gone 
How his tears going to dry 
If he stays far of sun

Ask dreamless boy be awake 
That the dream, is a part of us 
Tell him: "think of a better talk" 
And to change the dark glass 

Help dreamless boy to be here 
And clear his negative thought 
Once he comes to hear or share 
He will enjoy to dream in a boat 
 

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DON'T GO OUTSIDE

Because there's kids

all scissorheads, blade-eyes,

machete hoods

and skin impervious to your reasonable begging

as they wave the pre-cutting knife

in a goodbye to your drained face.

They're behind every corner,

in every shop,

unstamped shouting on every high street.

And there's concrete abode blocks

hammering your daymare...

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