11 (she said i love you and i said)

she said i love you and i said
i love you
and the i love you flowed thick
and fast between
the two of us

the always-saying of the i
love you becomes a thing –
a habit or a tic

i will not say i
love you i will not say i love
you i will say something new:

(sitting on the sofa, watching tv)
your (i) presence makes me (love) feel safe (you)
(when i cried and she held me and
let me cry) you are (my love) my comforter (you)
(i leave for work)
i hope you (i) will always (love you) be here

when i say i love you, i don’t know what i mean.
i don’t know who love is, or where she lives.
i change every day, and am renewed
but our love is a constant
because it is made of a thousand little
i love you


(10) on death


At the centre of life
there is a
which is called death.

Death is the arrow.


Infectious at times
death is
feeding on the living.


Death is also the

stomping us breath
less we re alise that alive
is worth s o v e r y much.


death is unbecoming

becoming un
made, we can only-pray that
the works worked here-and-now

can ripple-out and

fill the empty-sky.

9 (there’s a blackness on the edge of down)

There’s a blackness on the edge of down
by the clawcrowfeather lies
a single waiting figure
statuelike –   armless in the
moonlight like fire in the
halflight and stars gazing on the edge of down.

On the edge of down, is a boy
licking the honey in spite of the dragon
and walking a stick carved with affection.

Edging down on the edge of down
one finds a strange kind of beast
fickle and fallow and fear
oh my.

The god-silence is deaf
and in my face is blind
and my mouth in numb
loss is my mother
and fatherless for
the edge of down is a bleakness
brok’ness and faithless men
ask for favours of me

but my hands are caught in the
edges of down
and my eyes are strung out
to the crows the spoils
and the victor must live here
on the edge of down.

8 (my church)

my church 

    grass-stained            incom
plete    covered in n o i s y gestures
( like hands shot into the air
in a fervour a fall to my knees  )
and also the silly-grumbling of
unhappy men, on a sunny day with

they suddenly realise that it has been
t       o       o     l     o    n    g      and smiles
don’t come naturally anymore

 (and they try it anyway, and it looks
funny, outofplace.        still beautiful still)

That is the foundation of my church.

It is a place where the angles look like Snoopy,
the Ninja Turtles, and the Tin Man, and Satan is
just a cowardly wizard behind a silk curtain
who turned out to be you all along
suddenly the rabbits all dig rabbit holes
when you close your eyes they become
C R A T E R S  O N  T H E  F A C E  O F  T H E M O O N
the moon looks like its grinning wide.

My church has 20 sides and all sides point in
1 direction
->    <-
you hold all
your littlest hopes
that never caught the sun and all the sudden
they become treetops of    hopes-real-ised
 complete with golden sunsets and
crazy monkeys playing wild bongos

and an A L T A R in the centre.
!! What an altar is in my church !!
All golden and Shiva
and g e m e n c r u s t e d and Allah and
picked out in silver and Jesus and
the incense that smells of roses and
the tears of the saints and martyrs.

And I would never go to my church at all,
because it is pointless, and anyway, I
worship my own feet and hands and your hands and feet
and I’ve never really been one for architecture.

7 (i tried to remember)


I tried to remember

there’s very little there

the past, I mean

it’s exactly that

the path is overgrown the roots

jut out and the clearing


I lose the trail, the scent, the

sense that I’m really looking at me

re membered,

limbs pulled from memory

underneath the darkest trees

They have been themselves forever

while the blink of I

is briefer

maybe just now

maybe just


looking upward the trees are bigger than memory
14 men can’t wrap their arms around
and the vines thick enough to
swing into the creek

I close my eyes and lay back in the water
where I was baptised
and a trick of the camera was
the Holy Spirit.

I flow with the water, under the bridge
made of a tree bigger than memory
where they’d slap the water like drums
leap like thought

I can pull back ferns that close in my hand, but
cannot find the clearing among
trees bigger than memory
where we built a fortress of branches and leaves

I broke the ligaments in my ankle
I can’t walk that far anymore


By the lamplight
the words are dim
I squint, & am quiet

Another world, always other worlds
where Frank & Jeff find clues.

This mystery is mine, & I seem full of untouchable
unreadable, unknowable facts
They bubble up, divorced from the now
a story told

a fellowship, a chronicle

Fiction and I are intertwined
my history seems fainter
than the typeset

6 (i take my pain)

i take my pain
      like an alchemist
  through fire
                   my intense
            my wordless choke
 my dark ne s sun derthehouse

  like an alche mist
     i take the lead enheart
& the pouring ink
     crafting coins
 to pay the ferryman

    crossing the styx to
              the otherside
   costs only a memory
              a tear
              a frightened
     transmutable me


5 (when we kissing i feel)

when we kissing i feel all the me that i ever am welled up in my throats, spilt over my jawline

and all the me that can never been pulled back my hair and screamings: you were more now than i expected

who knew that you was a part of my me who knew that you could tell me something about a me that was notknown until you

i must have known something when i met you that first day when you were young and i didn’t even notice and still somehow convincing you to stay.

4 (she spins in moonlight)


she spins in moonlight,
in and out of moonbeams,
some madly-grinned whirlwind,
she spins faster.


the axis,
the crux of everything.
somehow, the crucible.

while she turns,
drawn-out light-threads,
halo her head.
stars fall to the earth.


she stopped,
felled,             heaped
onthefloor, a s k e w:
an after-show marionette,
st. elmo in her eyes.

and I wondered what direction the earth spins
and what orbit the planets follow
and which way the sun turns.

she was probably the nexus,
the alignment,
somehow the orbit of humankind


around the pull of nothingness
and hot the heat of living