graffiti of erosion
darkness
I mime the moon
I mime the moon
white buttocks down
the hallway at midnight
toilet break from sleep
I wonder if things
follow out of sleep
in the darkness?
I bump the wall
the moon out of orbit
day is a large cell
day is a large
cell
the door clangs
day goes into night
day goes into night
and so I go with it
once I would have
found myself
but now I don’t look
so hard
I made you into a candle
I made you into a candle
I carry you lighting dark rooms
if I can’t touch you
in a poem
I never shall
so I’m touching your breast
it is lovely
tell me that I shouldn’t?
the flame of you
flickers
making shadows
on the wall
I can write that
they are flowers
pretty as
yr take yr pants down
yr take yr
pants down
and yr
give yr self
to them
cause yr
want to be
loved
in morning
yr hear
the birds sing
and yr close
yr eyes
to yr
thought
sits by myself
sits by myself
I can perish
if I want to
body’s like
a flower
sitting
in a chair
this
isolation
to
emphasize
my beauty
grey
I can barely
speak
to people
now
the conductor
of grey
stillness
they see
the wilderness
in me
faith is
apathy
hope
survival
close the
doors
of the
maze
overdose
on solitude
people stay away from them
people
stay away
from them
go to
a room
with music
drink beer
be free
of them
who could not
love me
who could not
offer no harm
beyond these
walls it is
nothing
fall among
my poetry
to morning
surrender
death won’t be poetic
death won’t
be poetic
when it comes
for yr
it’ll break
yr heart
more than
love did
and if
yr do
manage
a poem
of it
read it
to yr
darkness
that being
tougher
than
yr sweet
self
prayer
13 December 2010
I leave the prayer open
like SETI
searching the cosmos
the quiet God
too big
to be seen
too immense
to be noticed
my ears
alert
for wonderment
my hands clasp
the darkness
where no light
is
my fingers build
a Temple
pavement
concussion of alcohol
redemption
is a white cloud
floating over
a willow pavement
leaves
stroke the ground
like a priest
the same old sin
leaving welt marks
the prison bars
on skin
birds sing here
their joyful song
as if to be healthy
was something
to be happy of
now the tailors of wealth
are leaving their mansions
they drive away in limousines
to what conglomerates
maintain the elegance
what am I to tell them
if they were to ask
what were the clouds like
today
spaces
7 May 2010
I sit on the back step
with my pumpkins
thinking of women
who have left
spaces in my heart
that I may frame
for windows
paint
11 June 2010
go to the fridge
take what is in it
everything
is winter
make a noose
paint it
in Spring
when everything
renews
smile at it
too
brzzz~~~~~
Jesus, it’s 5.30
how am i going to get to
the night?
““
fuck
i tripped on daytime
are you the dark sparrow
are you night?
“`
what’s with rain?
what’s with rain?
looking for life is like
looking for a gun when you
don’t have one
you won’t find it
you can’t find
what’s always there
with you
it’s not love
it doesn’t turn
to shade
like hate
though death
is like aspirin
for those who
grieve too long
and when you’re
dead you won’t
find anything
but acceptance
for what it was
you were looking for
all along
the tide
a seepage
from the imprisonment
of bones
their agonies
blinding to what
we had
to what we
were asking
who made
me
what am
I
have
17 April 2010
if you put down your knife
you will have only your hands
if you put down your hands
you will have only your heart
7 May 2010
7 May 2010
I have gone
into the hills
the wilderness
is lovely
nothing here
needs care
of nourishment
we live
as we live
each
with their flagon
each
with their love
fallen
or surviving
same
23 March 2010
looking harder
finding nothing
only clothing
on a clothesline
nothing alters
not even seasons
all is winter
night thunder
night thunder
a soft curtain billows
catchment of air
rainfall
first moist kiss
upon the
window upon the
world
leaves
of the dead poet
Michael
sift in a paperback sieve
I ignite
a nicotine missile
smoke consistently
as a means to death
and
for an illusion of company
a smoke filled room
in my
weird night’s hermitage
I can no longer sleep
graffiti of erosion 