BUSKING IN CAMBRIDGE

I confess my open heart

is lying with her legs apart.

If she said she’s in love with me,

I wouldn’t go taking it personally.

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COCOON OF LOVE

A glance

A blink

A fault in the stars

Her mascara slips into pools of black

A chance

A second

           of Infinity

She flutters her eyelids

           like spring’s first butterfly

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LOVERS AND FOOLS

Lovers and fools are breaking their own rules in the Game.

Mad children play unaware of an end to their Game.

Pirates are losing the world and riding the breeze.

Angels and thieves are kissing at the tips of the trees.

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CONFIDING IN YOU

Tomorrow mum needs us to help in the garden.

She’s stressed because she’s been in the kitchen.

She gets angry when she has to wash up. OK.

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TOWING THE PARTY LINE

I was walking down Gutterby Beach

before it got lost, naming

the procession of natural monuments

of rock as I went. A river running

through variegated ages of rock,

a rock star changing costume mid-show,

are not the same but different.

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SOMETHING I LEARNED

Something I learned I cannot impart

but it’s because I have a heart...

I should stick within that.

Meanwhile I still can’t ejaculate.

It is mine own fault.

It means “no more thank you,”

but in what language I cannot tell.

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ORDERS FROM ABOVE

The powers that be could be clouds

floating by on their sky-blue roads.

They wear ripped genes adorned with peace,

love and anarchy signs, also DM’s

on their protest march while you wait.

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THE FEMALE PAINTER

She is a great exhibitionist, setting

up her easel anywhere, like

in the garden out here, or

down on Gutterby Beach

where waves still make gentle love to the shore,

drawing up objects for your attention.

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THE BOND

If the bond between a mother and her child

is unconditional, she might remember

the Night when it was 6. 58

and 37 seconds so we all ran

as fast as we could towards the sofa.

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DAD

There’s no such thing as almost infinite.

There had to be everything in order

for there to be even an atom. A drum

is a dream bigger than a dream of bounding

in huge, magic circles in space. Again,

I am in the kitchen, thinking if the windows

were washed, every one, we would see

nothing but the same white mirrors, re-affirming

the quiet interior of th...

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AN INWARD PRAYER

Blessed may be the end at last,

under the sea,

below the soul,

in the upside-down

Oceans above us

(all that heaven sends is rain).

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HAIKU FOR SPRING

There is joy in things

and smiles not grins like butter

but like butterflies.

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IN THE BLUE ROOM

Sullen, silken sulks,

we drink the same rain,

spit is clean

and so is dirt.

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