A Silence in Empathy

Here stands the immortal
cloven hoofs turned inward
no clue as to origin
ready to pounce



A mere filament was all it meant to be
as it formed alive in the flowing lava
and shaped itself around liquid granite
that would cool for a few thousand years
disturbed by the violence of the earth
and inspected by the curious siftings of
archelogical explorers

A mere experience of self
tried in the docks of antiquity
made up like a carnival over the lockets
that define us into sequences and chains
the filament floats into the air
its chemistry now alien and strange
to a world of coloured lights and
people in cinemas

If the beginning was a word and
all life started from a falling apple seed
if all life came from the very simple
somehow hardy enough to continue
if all decisions are made on the sharp
end of illusion, how can we stop this
caldron from bubbling over the sides
how can we stop truth from shining
through our skins?

First publication Mote


Falling In

before the rains everything is tense

everything is nothing
then everytime it is in you
if everytime is a move
toward a thing

you learn the little
things all in a rush
and the world
falls into laughter

into your arms, again
into your arms and legs
and mine interspread intertwined

eyes meet and hold
mind flows between
like a rush of air or seeds thrown
at the tropical trees
that run streams in the river
and hands our own
that cup each other
the wind in the trees lifting
the fingers up and the
ripples on the surface

and then the waves crash into the walls
the orchestra sings and the lightening strikes
all that drama wasted by words and is not
the subject under the hands of the planners

the silence after
the sound of dripping water

the state of the wind dying and the valley sighing

the laughter in the trees
the singing of the leaves
the double bass as the bark virbrates
and the drums as the rain beats down
on the carpeted roots

after the rains harmony takes over

First publication Falling In

The Morning Song

interrupting that news offering
the sacred reading of the bulletin
the interwoven threats of militant godparents
always take you from here to a single stage of tremor

the dancing of nymphs in summer gardens
songs rain in a Victorian morning
light explodes into perfect vision
left your mercy unexplained

the litter you inspected
for the trails of sacred demons
the entrails of the evidence
you sought out with a vigour

the looming of the weather
on this day of all the times
we felt a letter
winding its way through the days and the nights
until it finds us waiting weary
and the opening of the decision
to the consultants and measurings
that tagged along

the closing of an eye
and the light in the rainbow
call me home to dance among
shadows and slice into meaning

the leaning of the vessel meant it was not right for travel
and the dictation of the raffle left winners scattered too far and wide

there are morsels for the lonely and the cackle of their motors as
they ride snowy roads through the deceptions of the city

Friday, December 31, 2010

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