oyster

hunter with your gleaming liquid heat you fire blazing slinger slicing through leather i want to know your bloody knife let me have it I want to crack this oyster open i feel it heavy hunter boots standing on your stepping over my slatted wooden floor i sink like sand I am or winter chill

Hot Tea and Toast

  herein lies a conceptual emotional winding a woollen complexity rough on the tongue dry in the throat a faux love a preternatural writhing a knocking on the inner skull with hammers little god diggers and gold wishers driving within to my without taking aim hmmm it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to see that

i am

  tiny pink flowers

Corn I AM

  lets shuck these green folds of corn skin that cover me my kernel is sweet I am…. rows and rows of friends walking stiffly forward a drama unplanned, randomly perfect, an organised chaos I in my gold pants and flourishing breasts like waterfalls of flesh sun bleached dunes parting veils dripping butter smiling in

Distraction of Sparks

  the phantom in it’s grotto grins upon a hexed cushion that stinks and smothers. Excessive rhythmic noise pounds gracelessly on my vestibule doors leaving fingerprints green with envy and moss. Reality flares, distress signals, sparking a heated tumbling and there is one choice ………..to embrace transparency …..or ……..shut ………my ………………eyes    

  There’s a new sensation in the town houses and skyscrapers that fill my body my universe a deep vibration a tingling a buzzing a warming of the cockles a climbing of the vertebra toe by toe the field is brimming the silver army heads so high eyes shimmering the night has touched the sea

The Drift of Eternity

a response to Rainer Maria Rilke’s Duino Elegies  below is the  first of ten poems. There is tugging at my ribbons a wild, teasing acapella oh this noise is rich… rich enough to decorate my hollows to drop me to my knees whilst midnight space rushes like swift tide expanding the universe cracking my chest

A Lily Opens

  Before time the enclosed garden tremors and a Lily opens…..   inviting conception a personal illuminati a patent a pact a private love making just Me ‘n God behind patterned screens the burgeoning idea levitates and then drawing his Saber like Obi One Kenobi HE WHIPS the  halo from my head pink and silver streak

YES!

  it is a YES yes to Paris the rippling water and YES in the gullet of silver fishes yes to the thick splash allaying fear and peeling hearts yes to the face that looms above me in it’s zombie mask yes to hot pain that forges space within my gut yes yes yes in Bocaccian

The Egg

  Next time you stand with an egg in your hand, stop time and look. Run your fingers over cool skin, take in shape of the immaculate. Hold it to your cheek, close your eyes, let it rest on your lips, taste it Feel love clearly now. When it comes time to crack the shell