they're cold but they don't judge
blue lights respond to everyone
even her, so small, hiding
in a wardrobe
tree lights are other lights
sparkling joyously, festively
it was difficult watching my own play
after her, so small, smoke filled,
never getting to play with whatever
she got under those other lights

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stop throwing baseballs
for my neighbour's cat
his swing just isn't in it
and besides, I'm a little
worried for his fragility
he, being just porcelain

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then you unbutton your blouse
in a world where guns have children's faces
freckles and baby curls on bullets

and the moon no longer recognises
what she sees under her

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I grew a hat

it’s a part of me

a little piece of inside

when I’m out,

in a head tilt,

a shutter peak,

hiding like mountains

under snow,

tree canopies

in desperate corners

of a ceramic world

I wonder if clouds sigh

when another

enters the blue;

it’s why I prefer nights

the daddy of all hats

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standing naked to a gathered few
but painted white
you danced
flowering, as from a mother's womb,
exact, on them,
your ritual

by standing stones
some sat,
some lounged
in wine, full bodied
your head above all others
I took your eyes as fire,
my start

and minimal movements
weave your work in fingers
and fluttering eyelids
the night forgot its smoky chill
in circles
hissing fir...

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