In The Moment

Big red-sun pulley has

Been lowered behind

The stiff horizon;

Last-echo wonder-filled

Songbird-flute phrase

Is held, suspended,

In the still-star air.

Somewhere a cash-johnny train

Rolls away to some distant

Coyote-wail otherworldville.

I am in the  lizzy-thin,

Emerald and cowboy moment:

Listening to companionable

Words from orange, high-flame fire;

The mother-calm breathing of the earth:

In, hold and out.

 

19/6/2013

  • Coyote (raveng7.wordpress.com)
  • Inertia (sevinius.wordpress.com)
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Way Past Numbers

She’s way past numbers,
He’s given up counting;
Their eyes, their lives
So full of history’s snow
Neither can remember the
Last time they
Enjoyed the silver powder thunder.
She can’t hear what the  one-armed drummer is saying,
He just can’t quite recognise tune the blue guitarist is playing:
Does either of them realise,
Does either of them care any more, that
It’s the doll-devil they’re paying?
Hey-ho, there’s just one letter’s difference
Between the bomb
And the final, sad, slip-away mistake.

11/4/2013

Journeys of Stones

Beginning with the grain;

The barley,

The board and

The beach;

Thinking it

Ought to

Hurt much more,

Mean much more

Than this.

Where is the music?

The returning tide?

Prints prove

You were here before,

But you have no recall.

The songs and cries of pebbles

Ring in your skull

Though you would swear

You’ve never heard them before.

The journeys of stones

Are buried deep

In your bones.

English: Five Pebbles

18/3/2013

The Status Quo

It’s that always-inevitable,

Nettle sting time again,

After the anticipation,

The first-time-again surprise

And pleasure;

That heartbreak song again:

A bus stop song,

A railway platform song,

A tomorrow morning-alone song –

The bye-bye song,

Gently savage chords,

Mellow move-away melody

That mean –

Almost certainly –

We will never meet again.

Hold the Future Closer.

Before colours could bleed their

Confidence-trick confusions

Into the new day

The wandering hidden people danced;

Danced to celebrate reaching

Season-border clapper bridge.

Dressed in sliver and grey motley they

Wove loose-limbed,

Long-step patterns around

Rippling pyres of tall, blue pale flames.

The world around lay fierce-choke quiet,

Holding a night-long breath:

Yet I felt the music:

Echo-ghost voices of deep-jet whales,

Ice-heart sibilant percussives,

Vibrations of undiscovered stars,

Chorus winds of dragon-banner conflict.

They shunned me not,

Showed gentle respect and,

Though I know I will not meet them again,

I no longer neither doubt not fear

Their presence here,

For they belong as much as we –

And I hold the future closer, tighter now.

21/2/2013

She Thinks She has …

Silhouette-at-first-girl
In the hightower spotlight,
Snow and rock falling past
Once blonde hair onto
Slim, bare shouldres.
She has her own garbage can booked
In a special, reserved corner of hell;
But that must wait.

It’s not about history,
However impressive, it’s
About now, the show,
Adrenaline and the
Ten thousand points of light …
The ones many people never see.

When the fork-tailed
‘phistpheles angel comes,
No doubt, she’ll struggle, cry,
Plead, argue, go
For his damned eyes,
With broken nails and all
The spite she thinks she has.

But, she made a deal,
Is fine with that,
And between now and then
She’ll pay for powder,
Devour the music,
Give the naked fool everything,
Everything he thinks he needs.

24/1/2013

At The Borders

Paused at the borders
Of a place
Named Evening:
Where day-long fog
Leaks from the spaces ‘tween
Bare-bone beeches,
Where the past and anthems
Are neither denied
Nor forgotten.

With a little luck,
Some patience and sweet time
We’ll reach Nightfall …
But let’s savour the wine,
 Music and candles first eh?

13/12/2012