Jāta

Evolution is testing me;
Her step-sister, Society
Arrested me, complicity.

Canal side paths I cannot walk,
An ancient pump disused
Within a bruising of hedgerows;
My gaumy brain encrusted
With tawny bone and moss.

Deep within me,
Peaty bogs, a cairn stone
Beside a waterfall’s spooling locks
Where thoughts swirl in a pool,
Froth, and only downstream still.

Tell them, tell all the kilted boors
When their universal chores are done
And the last absconders have gone
That I rejected it all.

Strawberry Moon

A cocktail dress,
A horse’s head;
Against my nape
Your touch and
Delicate feminine
Breath is a hair’s
Breadth away from
Enunciating
Bare thoughts
Like waves
In a Zen-master’s
Garden of sand.
Your sequined shoulder
Where I remained
Scintillated like stars,
Light years of movement,
Energies and efforts
Traversed the blue space
To be diffracted and
Prismed as they infiltrated
With gravity and grace,
Held by the wide eyes
Of midnight skies
In summer, for a moment
With irresistible finesse.

Venus is observed,
Bright oscillation,
We moved through stables
As two silhouettes
While horses slept
And dreamt of reverting
To equine wildernesses
Replete with carrots
And mallow-heads,
Their upper lips
Flehmened from the sense.

An orangery for dreams,
We danced beneath
Denuding beams;
Nothing in this life
Is as it seems.
I bit my tongue
And the future
Unravelled slowly,
With profound
Musicianship
Like eternal bows
Slowly over strings
On the bridges
Where lunar-illuminated
Violas and violins
Reverberate with love.
A cumberbund,
Penumbral eclipse,
Strawberry-scented
Lips kissed, knowing
The morning steals
Potential arts
Just as the night
Endeavours to
Blanche nature and would
Deny her daily craft,
Her plethora unweilding.

All will revert to
The awful normality
Where we began;
A cocktail dress,
An empty bed.
Some thoughts are better
Left unsaid.