no exhale

when the dark balloon when the dark balloon the dark balloon presses its rubbery skin on my inner being when it takes out a chunk of rib to fit i become a prisoner a minion a servant to its inflation dark balloon puffs itself with spiritual secrets faith is the favourite faith have faith test

White

wind is breathing shadows reflecting opposition to outside pushing my eyes are still and rest upon this vision my heart signals birds pulsing forward I am puppeteering trees and laughter is a swelling dance exhalation turns the page and here we begin, with feather white and ink see more art? >> http://www.artofkundalini.com

Some Mute Beast

My response to Rilke’s Duino Elegies number 8 Reaching again, stalking this thirst for who I am, we are splitting in parts, raw light leaking but blind and believing in sweet enduring allowing death public slaying guarded by pulsing spectre keen eye follows flickerings by bee or ant marching chaotic to unseen nothing but not

Unlocked Rivers

My response to Rilke’s Duino Elegies. This is number Seven. over dirty feathers sand pieces and falling sun o crystal creature this droplet of flesh his humbled form talk is small small talk tiny talk lording over billowed heart huge rising expansive breaking tidal pushing midnight reaping clouds kissing imaginary moon balloon in my chest

Ivory Elephant (again)

  If you let someone love you will they wander off? will they get lost or side tracked, like I did when I was three at the market? a tiny ivory elephant was my desire then, the square of soap that smelt of sandalwood. My loves, my treasure. If I am someone’s ivory elephant will

Awaken

  disappearing bones of petal strength and crushed colour fitful pastel thought shaping over walls and the creeping sound that moves you and presses you, slinging into you, the very song you dream of purging…. and still in ten thousand years we are found mouthing words that bind our seemingly free delivering the sweet opiate

magic bow

  he draws taut his magic bow one arrow a drop of vitriol relief is slow …. … .. . temporary…. Awareness erupts as poison slides home.

Nowhere Man

  the inky swirling curling cracking paper white braided silver beard booming tone required a warsome bloody statement a pompous fretful poem the speckled chaos counting dimensions un K NOW n footprints in the sand stacks of golden thrones lots of weight behind the blind….. Nowhere man floats home.