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Friday 16 March 2018

Divinity of Wetness


Through monsoonal bludgeon 
free of elemental encumbrance 
an apparition glides
over broken cities
and abandoned protocol
crosses the blood-line of convention,
papyric fragility 
that can with a word
into heart-dust turn
or with a word
become flesh 
in the timeless narrative
of creation:
love is god.

Wednesday 14 March 2018

Illusions


There is nothing original
nothing un-cut
no rough diamonds
just gatherings:
songs others have heard
places oft-visited
books re-read
leaves, grass and waterlilies  
tree lines and shade
sun drops and burns
immemorial hurts
and momentary grasps
common across continents
and centuries;
all things important 
have come to pass
all wisdom catalogued,
we just chance upon old stones
and cut old fruit
we delight as others have
weep over eternal verities
with tears thought to be virginal,
the metaphysical in cell and bone
prick the voodoo dolls 
of our sensibilities 
we dance and collapse: 
'I was the first'
or 'I will be the last'
and with such convictions 
we clothe the lie
and sometimes
with poetry
quietly dab our wounds.

Tuesday 13 March 2018

Ode to Fingers


They were made for keyboards
but i didn't know that
not for years;
back in the day
i thought it was for eating
for transferring ink 
from pen to paper
holding tangible things
and to clutch at straws;
then I was convinced
that the mind and heart
had them too
and that's how dreams were caught
and translated;
but now
these keyboard agitators 
they seem destined
to run through hair
they can never touch.