i shout.
the pitch
above human hearing:
sharp piercing sound – a blade –
slitting time
and life
and space
inside me.
then,
lips come together,
in a brusque motion.
the slurmp of collision
runs through the body
and the rest is silence.
beneath the bones,
the scream solidifies
in the darkness of the soul.
you can have the whole of me in this field:
i pressed my soul into its loins
and beads of sweat still glisten
on the body learning to tango
in the outpour of rain.
i will surrender only here
so take care not to move even a strand of hair
from beneath the tree where i will lay through my whole life,
as if dying prematurely,
for this is home and i forbid you.
a day will come when spring will open me enough
for sun to shine
into the roots of the old cambridge tree
and open up
the rest of me.
—————————————————————-
i’ve been writing this poem for a while now and it feels forever unfinished. maybe that’s just me, always a word out, a syllable in. and then i give up and start something else. at the end of the day, however, i always come back to this. and the oldest tree in cambridge.
Posted in excerpts
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you’re coming back to me,
smell of your shampoo in my eyes,
tearing,
searing,
inviting a stampede through memories
as my thoughts of you singe
the body i’m in
and i wanna be a shooter
shooting time
but i’m gonna
throw the world a dime
and wait.
Posted in excerpts
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i’ve realised not long ago how shame has filled the crevices of my life. and yesterday i let it out on you, because in all this time you hadn’t realised.
you bought me presents that i liked, you told me things i longed to hear but deep inside me there was always fear of shame. and now you’re walking streets with me, early in the morning, carrying my cargo of paper and shame. just for today. this burden in not yours nor ever will it be.
and this song’s alive in me and you can hear it, but you will never feel it the way i do.
so hold my hand in yours, my dreams scattered on your palm because i’m a dreamer and dream too much. let this free soul forsake it’s body and fly into the open sky like a red kite soaring amongst the stars.
and i want to tell you you’re closer than you were tonight,
but today we’re further apart.
i’m sorry.
Posted in chapters of my life
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you cushion my falls
like a pillow
of finely ground murano glass,
with the voice of rustling leaves in october
crackling and shimmying underfoot.
your glass is my sand of world’s beaches,
where coloured lights we make break the dark,
warmth engulfing the contours of your body,
nectar flowing freely from the cup.
so know
it is for you,
i ride the moon and back,
hair flowing on the rising morning tide;
for all the nights you let me cry in the pillow
made from the ground pieces of your heart.
Posted in excerpts
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glittering soot on her eyelashes 