wasteland trees
I'm not interested in your trash
nor your treasure, not interested in layers of abandon
like so many mattresses stacked at the side of the road,
so many princesses looking for their habits,
so many pressures on the skeletal leaves,
so many looks to bend and flap
so many wounded roots and saplings downtrodden
my love downtrodden
gets under your nails
the forensics are undecided
as to how exactly this seed became something more
how the cells manipulated into tears
how the wounded prince stalked the highways
how the look of layers decomposes
into a matter of time
Absence
Dear Sir, in your
absence I am looking after you -
all the kisses you forbade me to lay bare
and all the other small windows of love.
In your absense spoons have bent out of sorrow
and the storm brings more storms, heavy
with light and crashing the way huge concentrations
of energy can burst and shine in an orgasm surprise,
never tranquil, your mind switched on to me
tuned in to the same heartbeat frequency -
flutterby
you are the dark yet bright butterfly
so galiant, they don't make them like that any more you know
you are an endangered species
always flying toward my light
my pulsing amber light of love
here I am now get burned get me
make me an offer I cannot refuse
in your absence
brittle ghosts are smiling
the brittle ghosts are smiling
through their lovely little teeth
it seems no matter how you spin the tale
the luxury of trust is someone else
and prising open secrets
makes us as see-through as sheer shroud
it is because of the past creeping like
a worried maid after her master or mistress
always attempting to scuff the dirt
beneath the carpet but missing something
and compressed smiles and tears
are just another way of saying
I will take you and break you
