Tatooed Life

In the mist between the beginning,

daylit mind and the fantastic nethernight

you came like some scholar

bespectacled to learn the maze,

the lore of my muddle.

I’ve learned alreadyAlready learned

That you,

whose indrawn depth

whose inward breath

caught mine captive

Meant nothing by it.

Your fingers have stirred the impulse of intellect

Caught -

in the straining web of the nervous beating pulp

that is the artefactual house of the mystery

that powers the universe-

Sundered

In awakened choice

unaware that your exploratory offering

was a carnage catalyst.

I could not escape your inroad on my being

Spectral doubt and longing haunts the ways of slumber

Clamours in the empty ears of the conscious day

Like the waves of pulse, constant unheeded drumming

that returns from the sleepless pillow,

flowing unholy in the rhythm of

tattooed life, the sense of you remains

coming and becoming till

only me formed of you

is left of you when

you came to me.

Eden.

Eye of Winter

Snowy wings black-tipped
Gull flakes silent fall
Fleecy tree
Greedy caw.

Plum-lipped
Frozen all
Scarfy bundle me
Peeping eye, winter saw.

Cassandra said I should...here are some pieces..recent and otherwise- fun to compare right? ...

EntUrTrainity

A waking sleep, the lovely soft fur of the cat
the mixed gathering Of day-colliding-night
in the red depths of mingled wines
And drops of pure Burning heart distilled
No colour but only passion
remained.

The journey morphed into me. The long tracks of melded steel that rushed along the passages of wind
Falling gears like rainbow sealed in particled shapes, revolving links in a disjunctive chain
Rushed uncertain into coherence- the passing of energy into a driving force.
─ I am a train─
Phantom cars dragging in the heat behind me while faceward bitter cold
opposed motion.

Standing, seeking mine, on some mountain of man-heaped construct,
looking, down on a vista of gyrating tracks.
The narrow leap aside from hurtling freight monster as it howls by and my cars
huddle frightened, behind, intimidated.
The need to find the groove where accordioned tensed possibility might unfold
and process, the comforting path home.

Conscious of my tailing awkwardness,
Came upon pedestrian wanderers, in search of
Charon’s currency, please, they say: just a ticket home?
Confused.
I tried to explain the dilemma.

Trains need tracks. I couldn’t find mine.


They laughed and told me I was drunk and shouldn’t be driving.