SWEET
ordinarily
poem is sweet
but here
there are
dark places
and terrible spaces
and so
tread lightly
as you
consider yourself warned
and what
is “sweet” anyway
how to
best define it
as I am drawn to you
as bee
to pollen, wasp
to honey
such a sight you
are beautifully polarized
nothing looked
ever better
to these compound eyes
SHARK
thought
it was a
shark
but it
was a devil’s thorn
easy
mistake
to make
this desert once
an ocean
a million
years back
wonder though
with a
shark’s ferocity
(almost as
fierce as your Zulu,
Mongol or Viking)
why there is
no such thing
as a “devil shark”
their names:
Tiger and
Great White and Nurse
and Zambezi
far too
kind and respectful if
you were to ask me
WAS SLEEPING
(AT THE TIME)
my consciousness
your consciousness
was sleeping
whilst someone something
kept turning
off and on the tap
of consciousness
giving me the in out
impression
I am living my life
in a stop motion universe
wonderfully animated
too hard in this strobe like
flicker
to catch hold of a semblance
of corporeal identity, gravity,
divinity
submit to
all that is commonly agreed
to be
the holes in
best philosophy
holding the friendly
hand rail
tight as I might
at the
same time fretting
at the presencs of everything
exceeding my capacity
linear trajectory here of
minimal relevance
to what
lived
at this frequency
WONDER
I wonder how it is
more stars shoe
when we
make love
and how it is
I know
they
are there
get to notice them
loving you
focussing
on you
both
inside and
out
to
the depth of
my abilities.
QUIET
went
quiet
quiet
quiet
had to
restore myself
repair what
was broken
fix everything
stick
back together
weld all
that is ripe
for decay
to all
that is God
BURN
your beauty
burned me
but now
we meet as embers
wanting
to touch
but ever
so cautious
terribly
careful
wondering
as skin
glides
whispers against skin
what it was
back then caused
a conflagration
AGAIN
you are
pointing your beauty
at me again
find myself snapped
in polarized light
trapped
in your cross-hairs
watch the Sun sink
give you the eye as
we turn our
face away from him
can feel the struggle at
the heart
of all those flames
to stop, turn back,
adore, stay
IMPACT
you hit my poem
with a stick
felt it
recoil
under the impact
saw it heard it
absorb
so
much punishment
neither to
understate or
state over
saw the poem
get its own back
throw you such
a curved ball
when you rocked up
with a brush
to sweep
it away
DIGITAL
I remember that day
poetry
went digital
set itself up
somewhere just
beneath the stratosphere
up in the cloud
and now we type away
furiously fighting
for electronic immortality
unless at some precise
moment of
union
and synthesis
the rainbow of those words
filling the entire atmosphere
engineer an accord, a harmony,
never
before imagined
on this fractious ground.
APART
(for Gary Stevenson)
let’s play chess
or set each other
some mathematical problems
take a logical approach
whilst the world falls
to pieces
billions of pieces
some of the pieces
truth be told, however,
now having
accumulated a
most gigantic size
perhaps we might
consider them in
their own right planets
greater
by far, than
our own little
Earth that just broke apart
poems 2 die for