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And after all this time, where have I been?
Picking wonderments off these eyeballs.
Peeling moments off my skin.
Weary hearts and feet tell my tale.
Of lands baked in summer gold.
I licked the rubies there, tasted the royalty.
Scared away the ghosts that threatened to follow.
A Land of milk and honey, resided in these bones so hollow and dusty.
Washing away the arthritic rhythms of a life half led.
And though sometimes I despair.
Searching for the darkness when there seems nothing else to grasp.
Tiny voices carry, across the seas to me.
From the angels, who have already won.
Promising me a winter song, still left to sing.

Before we drown

Smell the blood on the fingertips.
Flaring nostril over sips of coffee.
Institutional hatred awakens; so easy now.
Swim, and sing for that dying summer.
Hanging up days like the hopes of refugees.
To dry in the sun. To crisp and crack.
Then fall apart.
Move on, with your shark eyes and deadened heart.
Circling and spiralling.
These lies you tell, on repeat as if tapped.
The louder you are, does not make them true.
Collapse is blue.
And freedom coverts all colours.
Drifting out of these infested waters.
To the Promised Land.

Diverted by distance light

Dreaming hopeful and sifting sand.
A hollowed doubt in a burning hand.
As eyes peel back and strip the moon.
This silent feeling is gone too soon.
We count the days as they fall like birds.
With tarred up feathers and swallowed words.
Two throbbing hearts break forth and run.
Leaving shadows and souls in that dying sun.

Tangerine (with sound)

With your tangerine smile, which flavours the city.
Casting a sunburst across my eyes……

This is an older post, now with the softly seductive sounds of Shuanna Latchman, a very good friend,  reading the from the pith of it all. Please click the title to be whisked off and submersed in that summery citrus world. 

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Thorned love spined

I found myself reaching for you.
Closing the gap between half worlds away.
Pulling space into my back pocket.
Keeping god under my gums.
You pull away and shake off the stardust.
Tugging the thread of the religion we wove.
Spinning out like the solar system.
Cutting me like thorns.
Yet beauty always seems to dance in the distance.
Unobtainable like the rings around Saturn.
Like the rose, once plucked will swiftly start to die.
So I will not house you in glass jars.
Or swirl you inside me like marbles in time.
You can bloom and fade on your own as I watch from a distance.
Seeing Saturn return into space.
Remembering how sweetly you smelt that summer’s day of mine.

Summer climb

Did you see?
The moon collapse. Sinking into the hazy blue.
Nightsleep shake and eyes wake.
Body rise along with the mercury.
Taste the air like nectarine slices.
A sweet design.
Walk into the softening air of the summer climb.
Sunshine sway on the sand abandon.
The moment lands on the skin like a dragonfly.
Holding out hope for a break from chrysalis.
The time has come. What have you done today?
Laughing as the butter melts on your back.
The midnight sun which never fades.
Uncertain, like talking to strangers.
Burning longer, as the time stretches out onto the horizon.
Catch the rays like the insults.
Thrown our way to re-calibrate our senses to summertime highs.
Watching starfish rise into space.
Et chantez dans les vents solaires.

Park West and Bethany

Say yes to all.
Fade and fall, mistaken only by the river.
Washed through like summer rain and the thoughts told to make you go away.
Cashing and catching the lights of the big city.
Money in your pocket with children’s teeth.
Rattling.
Looking for a god you needed then, but not now.
Built up your good intentions like the skyscrapers around you.
Spires into your sky, piercing the blue heaven you stuck there with hope and sticky tape.
See this soul, from Jacksonville. Holding out their hand and cup for dollars and sense.
Shiver into those thoughts of home. Idaho Falls and the sound of honey.
Yellow spaceships that hover and take the scenic route back.
If you lived there, you’d be home soon.
Circling the city and the moon.
Transfiguring the trauma to trees to breathe a new air into your lungs.
Lungs holding on, yet crumbling into a Moses dream.
A body holding out for a prophecy.
Killing the kings and setting the soul aflame.
Wait now to be alone once more with god;
to sip from their coffee cup and slip into the copper lake of content.
Bronzed into eternity, never losing your shine.