She wore a black tiara
rare gems upon her fingers
and she came from distant waters
where Northern Lights explode
to celebrate the dawning
of the new wastes of winter
gathering royal momentum,
on the icy road.
With chill mists swirling
like petticoats in motion
sighted on horizons
for ten thousand years
the lady of the ice sounds
a deathly distant...
And here slip I --- dragging one foot in the gutter ---
in the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap
radios.
And there sits she --- no bed, no bread, no butter ---
on a double yellow line --- where she can park anytime.
Old Lady Grey; crash-barrier waltzer ---
some only son's mother. Baker Street casualty.
Oh, Mr. Policeman --- blue shirt...
The tiny ant leaves his tiny ant drops in the sand,
And makes his home inside a rusty watering can,
Occasionally going out to look for bread and jam.
He runs into a sparrow who hasn't eaten for a week,
And later, quite contented, the sparrow cleans his beak,
Failing to notice pussy cat has come out to take a leak.
Our cat partakes of dinner...
Rusted and ropy.
Dog-eared old copy.
Vintage and classic,
or just plain Jurassic:
all words to describe me.
Relaxed in the knowledge
that happily present
are all things to sustain me,
nurture and claim me:
roll back the mileage.
You have settled beside me.
To the far and the wide of me.
A matter of choosing,
of finding and losing
on...
Do we inhabit some micro-space
And interface through wires.
Dance on a printed circuit board
Throw the software to the fires.
My memory's slim --- so volatile
But I'm learning.
Plug yourself in. stay for awhile.
Un-discerning.
And on dusty terminals
Finger me lightly do.
And qwerty is the name of love
Printed on the v.d.u.
Cut yourself free. we're...
Do we inhabit some micro-space
and interface through wires.
Dance on a printed circuit board
throw the software to the fires.
My memory's slim --- so volatile
but I'm learning.
Plug yourself in. Stay for awhile.
Un-discerning.
And on dusty terminals
finger me lightly do.
And QWERTY is the name of love
printed on the V.D.U.
Cut yourself...
Windy bus-stop. Click. Shop-window. Heel.
Shady gentleman. Fly-button. Feel.
In the underpass, the blind man stands. With cold flute hands.
Symphony match-seller, breath out of time -
You can call me on another line.
Indian restaurants that curry my brain.
Newspaper warriors changing the names they advertise from the station stand. With cold print...
I am your neighbor. I seem most respectable,
But underneath I'm an iniquitous toad.
So many dreadful mishaps have befallen you ---
down at the end of your road.
And I live down the end of your road.
I'm working on ways to remove you from paradise ---
from your striped lawn and your new swimming pool.
I place broken bottles in your geraniums ---...
I'll make love to you
in all good places
under black mountains
in open spaces.
By deep brown rivers
that slither darkly
through far marches
where the blue hare races.
Come with me to the Winged Isle ---
northern father's western child.
Where the dance of ages is playing still
through far marches of acres wild.
I'll make love to you
in narrow side...
Stormy-eyed on the edge of dawn:
nose pressed against the triple glaze.
Floor to ceiling, wall to wall,
silent traffic streams both ways.
Along the fussy freeway drivers
dream of sunday barbecues.
Of a sudden, seems I can barely
face my self: no face to lose.
Call the bosses. Call supervisors.
Won't be in today to work for you.
E-mail...
Fires on the mountain, and the dogs bark.
Crash of the ocean swelling: crickets in the dark.
The temperature is rising. The village gets no sleep.
It's hardly surprising, given the hot company they keep.
Somebody's home in the ash-fall margins;
Somebody's life in the lost and found.
Breaking news from the hotel Vue Pointe.
Sinking feeling,...
I am your neighbor. I seem most respectable,
But underneath I'm an iniquitous toad.
So many dreadful mishaps have befallen you
Down at the end of your road.
And I live down the end of your road.
I'm working on ways to remove you from paradise,
From your striped lawn and your new swimming pool.
I place broken bottles in your geraniums
Sabotage your...
Hot mango flush.
Ladies with ice cream hair -
Gyroscopic pink neon beams -
Everybody's happy about something.
The crowd moves like a flock of startings: they
switch direction as one.
Jive on the jukebox - Jack and Joker
split the night air with whoop and holler.
Faint aroma - wood smoke, old fish,
diesel harbour, roadside mongrel,
painted...
Winds howled. Rains spit down.
All these nights playing precious games.
Cheap hotel in some seaboard town
closed down for the winter and whispered names.
Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea
snap our heels half-heartedly
and how come you know better than me
that this is not love.
No, this is not love.
Empty drugstore postcards freeze
sunburst images...
Muscled, black with steel-green eye
swishing through the rye grass
with thoughts of mouse-and-apple pie.
Tail balancing at half-mast.
...And the mouse police never sleeps ---
lying in the cherry tree.
Savage bed foot-warmer of purest feline ancestry.
Look out, little furry folk!
He's the all-night working cat.
Eats but one in every ten ---
leaves...
I have to call you up.
Think I've seen a vision of rhythm in gold.
[???] move that way.
No [???] would dare to be so bold.
Must tell the boys to follow you,
Catch you where you go underground.
A lady of means I can see.
Rhythm in gold is getting to me.
What's your name,
And where can I find you?
Are you just a rich man's friend
Or was it always...
You'll hear me calling in your sweet dream,
can't hear your daddy's warning cry.
You're going back to be all the things you want to be,
while in sweet dreams you softly sigh.
You hear my voice is calling
to be mine again,
live the rest of your life in a day.
Get out and get what you can
while your mummy's at home a-sleeping.
No time to...
Good morning Weathercock: how did you fare last night
Did the cold wind bite you, did you face up to the fright
When the leaves spin from October and whip around your tail
Did you snake from the blast, did you shiver through the gale?
Give us direction; the best of goodwill ***
Put us in touch with fair winds.
Sing us to softly, hum evening's song...
Wet wind on the sidewalk: I'm staring at the rain.
Walking up the street, yeah, and walking down again.
And my feet are tired and my brain is numb.
See that broken neon sign saying, hey, in you come.
Got the scent of stale beer hanging, hanging round my head.
Old dog in the corner sleeping like he could be dead.
A book of matches and a full...