Abide

Ink blot skin.
I was wondering
How long might Time
Require my death
By sweltering.

The sweating stars,
The killing Sun,
Don’t know how far
You must have come
Just to do their bidding.

On Time

Time, Grandmaster Illusionist,
You can try and hold it like water,
These richest minerals taken for granted,
And as a dream likewise disappears
Without warning or notice,
So too elusive Time evaporates
In my field of view,
Far and otherwise near,
Far and always untrue.

Within a dream the other day
I saw the Law in stitched array,
In a pantomime ass; in abeyance;
One end politicians, the other the press
For which the gutter has provisions.
Which end was which, I’ll leave you to guess;
Flies her wishing-tail would sway,
The flies beheaded horsehair days;
I felt feverish cold when she brayed.

Loneliness of their abyss,
Where those betrayers
Now perilously live
In the grizzly sanctum
Of their own belittling myths.
If Time
Is a construct for such benefit
Of Life’s gardeners and of taxmen’s
Ophelimity, then what of this rose,
Or distant bridge, who knows
What really connects
A rubber oak, or dripping sink,
And perhaps there is a calm
And therefore finally
Meditativeness, a pledge,
That despite their best efforts,
The void of missing you
Through which my heart pours
Daily and effortlessly,
Will be sealed,
Padlocked in eternity,
And timelessness.

Gadolinium

I found a subtle place
Before your grave,
Indelible solitude,
Quintessential quiet,
Ego-traced and
Silenced,
Where Time and her sublime
And graceful sister Space
Were finally disproved,
A vision overcame
My diurnal self,
My empty-bottled body,
A vision of dark matter
Now made illuminated
Capillaries with
Cores of fire,
A galaxy’s whole aorta
Belched and splattered
Purples, yellow-golds,
A gadolinium ink,
A causeway,
A moment only
Enduring centuries.

Within this vision
I could see how roads
Rejoin that which science
Deceived
With industry
To disconnect our planets;
A wounded view,
Instead those old contusions
Are now piers where
Truth blooms perpetually.
I could see the infinite ways,
Like roots from Yggdrasil
Alighting shoots to
Embassies on Jupiter,
Grand statues with
Sandy orange knees
Standing high above me,
And on to gloomy Saturn.

You will walk that distance
When my mind is composting,
It’s only a million miles a day;
Find Jovian moons in a year,
Then light the higher way,
Return what once was far
From life, and icy cold,
To what is now revived,
Nearby, dear selflessness,
And finally in reach.

Visitations

In this weary adulthood
I cannot imagine
If those events actually happened
And if so, interred,
Misunderstood?

I am not one for turning over stones,
The hot stones of my youth
As impenetrable as the basalt eyes
Of the terrifying basilisk
Of myth, reputed to
Induce death with a single blink.
All these ghosts with their
High-level dependencies,
Their egos and their
Aggravating needs continuing
Long beyond our diaspora,
Long beyond death,
Remorselessly they approach,
Ceaselessly, a man once kindred,
A disappeared friend,
Their arms are tangled and
Darkly entwined like
Night-wire ivy in my dreams,
In the gloaming dream of the
Gloaming dream of the
Gloam of my stones.
They are heated,
Placed with skilled deliberation
On my back, my spine,
And I retreat, a shadow-fact,
Into a station, into a flat,
Into diminishing time.

And then you are there, living.
Will I be forgiven
For what I used to do?

Time Is A Spiral

Time is a spiral,
Double-dead helix,
God’s corkscrew,
Glass ceiling,
Ponzi scheme love.

I do not believe
These seasons are even.
In speeds now descending,
Some skelters
For mending
And sometimes a swamp.

So I am still wary
When a universe pops!
For gods love the bubbles,
And therein my trouble
As life gently floats off.

Damoclean

Lifelong I have walked in sole-bare shoes,
With the trapdoor of my thoughts
I am going through,
Like an inverse Damoclean sword,
Like a parapet above a bamboo pit,
Each stake sharpened
By your silence as wide
As a black hole’s gingival abscess
Or a behemoth’s grin.

I walk with a shadow
Owned by self-sabotaging indiscipline,
Infrequent in me, your company,
I trod the floorboards while you
Flossed your wolfbane teeth
With cider-froth and
Complacency.

Only lately,
That lateral door’s secured
By love,
A love that endures
Longer and more fast set
Than a Trappist’s bloodstone whetting,
More than the Gordian knot
Where once we tied to dogwood
In this self-same moment
An ageing satrap’s ox;
And I, my love,
I will no longer drop.