Sweet Talking

“I know everything about you!” The shady guy who had cornered me laughed, in a supposedly menacing way.
But I knew an opportunity when I saw one. “Oh cool, neat. Saves me a lot of money and trouble, then. What’s my blood count? Which vaccinations are due this year? Any hereditary diseases I should be aware of? What’s the best career for me? What is the password for my old email account? I keep forgetting to reset it. Can I wear my white shorts to the beach tomorrow or will I get my period early? Oh, and when did I last talk to my father; should I call him this weekend?”
“… WTF”

Ideas, Enamoured

I’m in love with ideas:
the quiet ones,
like silent shadows of bats
flitting over oil-black water;
the noisy ones,
loud as trucks
on nightly errands;
the ones in between,
falling musically behind the stairs,
disappearing with just enough clamour
to follow them until morning.

Second Stage

In the walls of cities high
flowers sleep and wait
dreaming of a spring to bloom
on the other side

once reached across the cosmic gulf
the engines pow’ring down
castles high up in the sky
setting for descend

on fairy land in clusters strange
twin moons above and dusky tides
carbon changing atmosphere
pressure running high

time is short and days are young
until horizons get slowed down
turned over into soil and sea
and flowers set the stage.

Tides

Under dark and ocean cover
floating cyphers taking shape,
rhyme and rhythm bleeding spaces
falling into easy pace

’round cliffs along the craters
pulling currents through the threads,
winds unwinding countless seasons
following in idle steps

and breathless taking seagull breaths
‘tween futures sliced and sea sand fed,
for wand’rers leaving in the morning
when tide does wash all traces down.

Towards Mountains

Waiting in the darkness
for the stars to come out
so I can feast on their cold blue fire
I chew up mountains
and spit out black hole cherry pits
filling the holes in the road
with singularities
and the rage of chestnut storms
driving heart-gales
through endless golden trees
before summer dust has even settled
behind my escape from limbo.

Shapeshift

Shapeshifting under
the cover of your watchful eye
looking outward as I turn inward
becoming
the sea
becoming
the night
becoming
the sheet of stars beneath your feet

trailing
along the edge of reality
turning
into the gravity well
bending
your mind
around my light

as I pull
the starry fabric
from under your feet