Cinnamon and cinnabar and giant marzipan
Melting mango fibered flesh oozing
syrup above scatterings of scuttling sail chinned dinosaurs.
Swarming stripes of black and yellow
ripple on frangipani – a name I don’t remember
except for tropical Plumeria smells of heat and rich sun on pale skin.
The streamlined horns and bulbs of red escape,
then eat their elegant umbrellas.
Hornet warnings flash for the birds
and coqui frogs, in the night, chirping beyond their bounds.
A cacophony of pings and sings
summoning shooting stars from the Pleiades
to scratch the darkness
To scratch the reflection in mosquito waters
The swirls of stars and galaxies in paddles wake
Chunks of light tumble from my hand
as drip trails fish follow shooting in the shallows
like a splash of silent light
Quiet in the mangrove night
I miss your mess of grey white hair
Your tufted stretch of leather,
over taught warm muscle.
I miss the deep tearing mouthfuls of grass
Chewing like a typewriter cartridge on elastic strings of slobber
Your super tongue, feeling, like a handful of fingers.
You were running for fun
Drumming the soil with half ton hooves
with high kick flicks and snorts.
We saw you as dusk raised a magic moon
and mist lost your numbers in a slow drift swoon.
I miss your eyes, your dark crystal skies
Etched with shadows and lined with long lashes
To keep off the splashes
of shit, sometimes smeared by your friends
A green grey stain, waiting for the rain to restore
Your soft cheeks.
Your black ears cocked and swept
Like folded felt shells
Seaching for warnings,
fore and aft.
When all else is peace
Quiet great masses slumped together
Stretched sacks of stomach, digesting,
And steaming at dawn
A mist that fails to lift
The ground without horizon
Just a banana yellow strewn floor
and leaves falling
occasionally overtaken by condensed drips of daylight
The damping down of a day done
before it has begun,
cut through by light of the approaching night
If you were a trout fly, I would tie you tight
I’m treble hooked in feathered flight
I love the way that water and your hair ignite
Exploding curls in ever expanding delight
Like ripples from a water kiss
Tempting rainbows from the abyss
Above, you are my kestrel kite
my shooting star at night
The sunlight on my skin
and the warmth within
Pink foil outlasts the crumpled Chrysanthemums
On the corner of a red brick bridge
Fading like printed photos in the sun
Garage flowers, in crunchy cellophane
Blooming by the roadside
Shrunken balloons, scattered and slumped
Like the shell of a burnt out taxi
A box without sides
Leaking smoked memories
Like rainbows of oil
A periodic table of dark varnished wood
Holds racks of ridged brown bottles
Releasing time streams from cupboards of fume
and florets of sweeping cilia.
From the Islets of Langherhans
Flowing down the duodenum
to a Golgi apparatus apportioning constants
from Planck to Avogadro
begins like Stevensons rocket
with bubbling tanks and valent ionics
The Medulla oblongata and Halogens
bonding noble gases to hydrogens
Bunsen burners leaking squeaky pops
dusting chalkboards and glassware
A relative atomic mess
on a periodic table top.
Like a stone ballerina,
Stands the lightness of centuries
With roots in ranges and valleys
draining an ocean of sanguine leaves
Sieving time with paper fingers
in submission to winds
A companion, holding firm on rigid rock
A restless monument in the maelstrom
A simple great mass
The full moon over Blackheath dusk
is a hole
Cut through to daylight
Reflecting tweed and steam and an old mans ears
on the summit of my young London years.
A perfect waiting window above the suburbs
Following but not moving
Watching without eyes
In Grandma’s comet catching skies
A monastic bell clear through thick mountain mist
Hillsides in layers emerging
A whale rears through the surf surge sunset
Aeroplanes and cranes crowding veiled light in the siren strewn city.
When bare trees mark horizons
Will I remember sky smeared peach wheat fields?
Under wet rain of plane
Darkness is not coming
Just dusk in a long slow loop
Bird song broken to notes
Between rain drops, on every surface around me
one by one, note by note
falling slowly in to the darkness
Where sky becomes day and the ground night
The definition of new leaves
Swarm a bright light sky of night
To gather the ground up
and darkness down