To Dance With Clowns

“Strange,” he thinks, quietly to himself,

Climbing the suddenly-too-steep staircase,

“Strange how the world turns

Around a moment in a relationship” :

For earlier, he watched love shade

Change to pity then full-blast ranting hatred.

“Strange, ” he cannot stop thinking now

That he’s started …

“The world is turning around this latest demand”.

He means the single white pill, so tinily perfect –

Balanced like an equation-to-be

In the bowl of a silver spoon.

Reflections come, twist, haunt  and pass on.

Quiet desert fire isolation,

Wild, decibel-loaded parties,

Southern belt skies, dreams of

Oaks and queens and

Better-when bad princesses,

White bannisters, warm apples,

Good company on journeys-far-from home.

Reaching the familiar-for-once carpeted landing

He pauses to rescue a breath, reminds himself:

“Those who choose to dance with clowns

Would do well to remember how quickly,

How well, how completely they recover from falls.”

 

7/4/2013

Buds of Wings

Before the Devil finds out

She is missing –

She can be free, be here;

Looking for a song to wear:

Hair like a mithril waterfall

Under a full snow moon.

There’s hard ground to be broken,

Cold season to battle,

Seeds to be drilled.

The strongest will floursih,

She promises, in

The spaces between rocks …

And if our love be real enough

Strong, limit-beating  wings will grow,

Where now there be only buds.

If the liberty bell blues and our chorus

Soar with heart, compassion and courage

She will be free, free  from the Satan-burn chains –

At least until the song – and

Our memory of it – fades.

1/3/2013

 

Even When …

Now
The discontent
Of our winter
Slips away;
The spearshake distraction,
Out through the in door –
So swiftly we have to
Concentrate double-hard
To remember why it was –
Like money,
Even when you are careful;
Like love,
Even when you are committed.

27/1/2013

Beneath the Night

Stars wheeling,

Heaven-high,

Universe-slow.

Sun’s been blazing,

Birds been singing;

Life is ultimately useless,

Supposed wise men agree.

It can also be sublime;

There were no words to say,

We said them all,

She and I –

Two fools –

First hot, then

Comfortable warm,

Lying beneath

The night.

23/4/2012