Down's Supper

One day I joined some folk I loved

sitting in a ring,

eating up their fish and chips;

not saying anything

and, in-between their little band,

I caught a special smile;

a secret in a private club

connected for a while.

It’s rare to clock a mystic note

and inner sweetness roaring

magnetism in a ring;

a cloud of magic turning.

They touched each other in a glow

that left me far behind,

sensing I could never flow

with my mutilated mind.

Love

Onward river

to the ocean

with a quiver,

rocking motion;

nothing single

all vibrating

stir and mingle,

celebrating

hot sun, cold moon

spin together,

tea and teaspoon,

sister, brother,

river, woodland,

ankle, shoe;

me and

you.

Season

That fire has been burning for a long, long stint

and one blue ball twists and turns akimbo

delighting water, up and up, to air

and a whiter flower bursts into gold

and a tiny creature sucks at liquor

and that tiny creature’s gobbled by a flying bird

landing in a treetop, hammering a song

for Spring, for Spring, carousaling Spring.

Retribution of Nonsense

If you get a longing for Benidorm,

it’s crucial, early doors, you realize

the wild pigs of Gaia could burgle your home.

The best looking sow will pick-the-locks, some

porkers will look-out (with piggy eyes)

while you get in the car for Benidorm.

Grunting swine in bed will be the norm

and shitting in the yard to attract flies

when the wild pigs of Gaia burgle your home.

They’ll snout your whiskey, watch some piggy-porn;

hog truffles, popcorn, apples and pork pies

when you are in the air for Benidorm.

Your bath and pillows will be rancid, warm,

with ham and eggs and sausages and fries;

the wild pigs of Gaia have burgled your home.

Drink Oloroso in the aerodrome

while big bad wolves are howling at the skies

and if you get an urge for Benidorm,

the wild pigs of Gaia will burgle your home.

Towards the City

fleeting from a train,

eye-poking spring

trees, innumerable leaves

and fuzzy humans, blurring back.

Perhaps they’re talking to each other,

perhaps uninterested, perhaps alone,

lonely but they’re flying, momentary,

someplace else altogether.

Friendly Lord's Prayer

Spirit of a treetop

sweeping through a tiny room;

come in, sit yourself down,

so we can have some little time.

What mischief can we conjure?

What omelets to eat?

What mirrors to look into?

What major chords to sing to?

Until this fiery day has turned – complete.

This morning

I parted from her,
met him, and(longing for her)
talked to her,   not him.