False Associations 2

False Associations (1)

So let us sit a while in the space left between ending and beginning

So let us sit a while in the space left
between ending and beginning

Here where
Nothing grows or ever
Dreams of living

There is a silence here that sings as sweetly as any song
And says that
Love has passed through these fields;
Has passed through and moved on

Here lies a land owned by neither bird
Nor flower -
Beauty has no place here,
Time holds no hour

And so let us sit a while in the space left
between ending and beginning

Here where
Nothing grows or ever
Dreams of living

Spanish Bluebells

Those weeks when the Spanish Bluebells came
As quietly as starlight pouring blue
And brilliant upon
The small bank of earth before my window
Have now passed.

So then the earth is back.
The bare earth.

Between scattered weeds - that I've not
The heart to move -
Crisp packets hunched as old women
Twitch in the late evening wind -

And how the wind howls across this sorry patch of England!
If the rain falls - and it does fall
How the packets crackle like fire!

But they bring none of the joys of fire
And sound as mocking and as uneasy to me
As the forbidden laughter of strangers.

Dalston Night Song

And so it's midnight
outside the Tesco Express
on the Kingsland Road

A man kicking at the wind
the rain
red lights from passing cars

And you have your hand in mine beneath an
old umbrella -

No, let's try not to think about the morning darling

For now
All that matters is
huddling from the rain and that
I've your bag and a bottle of wine

And that in half an hour we will be home

Bushwick Tales (1)

i wake up at 5.30am, from a drunk, hispanic laughter in front of my window, a cool breeze flows through my open window, on the doorstep of my house, two men in black baseball hats, three-quarter length cargo jeans, bid farewell to a friend on his way to prison today, the conversation is occasionally interrupted by repeated phone calls, where are you man? or the blase answer, in a light accent, changing to spanish at times, they're not saying much, mostly how loco and cool it is, cracking jokes about court day, i look up the weather forecast, it is going to be a cool summer day today, a slight chance of rain

the marriage of aphrodite

from the eastern crest of the setting eve
a wave of crystal particles like foam diverge
its shining stars wash ashore of ithaka
and curl in the green room of night
it is still and it is dark here
beauty greater than gold transits before a churning fire
so bright and large that it blinds our sight
her eyes sparkle married in heaven lit for only man to see
that we are wrapped in celestial embrace for lasting good
until death lands the kiss upon our fragile lips
with the salty taste of the sea that once gave birth to love
now gives birth to an eternity greater than man can love
there is written in the sky
only love can guide us through this night
and deliver man to womans thighs

Faces (50)

(50) Her face curves gently, as she stares at me, a wide gliding landscape with soft, broad slopes. Her deep brown irises beg me kindly from behind the veils of her obsequious eye lids, and beckon me with her full, red embalmed lips, for one more kiss.

Faces (49)

(49) His mandible grinds heavily from left to right, like a ruminating cow laying motionless, he stares blindly in the distance with wide open eyes. His eyebrows are contracted by a fixated frown into a widely shaped V spanning his forehead, the outer edges pointing up like the brows of an owl. Around the widely white eyes, heavy eye bags and fatty eye lids orbit in hypnotizing circles concentrically fixated on his doughy prey.

Faces (48)

(48) Her white freckled cheeks boasted a little tug nose, her nostrils stared at me like the eyes of a die. Her hair was shaven at her temples, while on top it dangled like long orange stems of reed that danced along with every step she moved. Her shy downward glance and soft hesitant voice revealed a Russian accent.