Once you

Once you-
around, or close.
Now lost
in behind.
Or tucked out of sight
behind a shelf.
Slight and flat
like a forgotten cracker.

My mind
wants to borrow your smell.
My skin can’t produce it.
I smelled it
outside the bakery
in a flash.
where
does it live.
your heart’s bloody
iron can’t do.
Your body lives,
it wont show.
A fragrance, in sight.
gone.

Blossoms to be
taken and used up.
In apricot beds,
tiny buds
for bushy bees.
Honey made,
job’s never done.
Now green
fitted to the stalk.
Soon stable and grand
for the summer.

Creation-sick

When I think of all our creation,

Our love and chests

Our sweet skin 

and chubby cheeks

Wrinkling and turning with the wind

This heart leaps through darkness void,

made in turn by us,

Or our emotions

Or our ancestors

Primal and baring teeth

Raging to begin again.

each instant in this structure of pains and pursuits,

All fibers and molecules and fabric

toiling and bubbling to surface-

Presenting each to each, and most concealed.

What heart!

What gaze! 

What life!

To burn in love is to sing forever in harmony.

Each delicate spoonful sipped and savoured to soul and mind.

Creations blinding quick

finding pulse and moments brought into sick fullness.

Shaped by organisms beyond. Flowing and rushing in ears and veins.

Rhythms to push and stack, and frighten our dreariness.

To sigh in deep reverence.

To breathe in sweet remembrance.

To fall in swift abandonment.

This is the spiral we climb.

Shine and flow

Bleed and squeeze a drop

Into this pool, waiting and furrowing for each morsel.

Seeds burrowing and bursting abound,

Bringing a stability or a time to this.

They too rush and fold, and heave and falter.

That heat of day, when the blackberries beat their red jubilant suns

is quickly turned and sticky with drippings of crisp apples air. 

How they implore us. 

How we connect and change with them.

One universe in a gaze of a berry piece. 

More in a bunch. Or none in a round.

Down, and true we go. 

To the forgotten, slow and low.

Burning soil and worms and grit. 

Fabric fragrance ripping through skull and wrist,

and knees and groin. 

Clambering.

Clawing.

Fastidious and fearful.

What to find! Where to dig! 

More and full. Gorging and rotten beneath roots and bones.
This endless malaise of centred depletion.

Suckling at the engorged teat of wealthy lies. 

Plastic and fragmented. Electronic and diseased. 

Sinking in swamp bogs of envy and lack.

Reproached. 

Disgusted.

Guilty.

This too a folding or a feeling.

Certain in our fortune to manifest,

Blind in the soil of bats and dry dust moths,

Lingering for a humming warmth to bring life or consolation, or feeling.

Consume this: my heart for you.

Breathe this, our weary strife.

Become flesh destroyed. Be death and resurrect life.

Once more a slice, or thought or time.

What power! 

Such force! 

Canned and pocketed, employed for good use.

Both smiling and able, connect to bring peace.

Pushed and stable how rushing and quick this chase moves.

Speed, speed, speed.

Swift to join the pulse. Come. Be.

Slip into deep orchid stems. Swallow the cornered moon.
Rush for blackness in still oceanic nebulas of thought.

Become creation.

Untitled

How quick in this yellow burst
a thought turns taste, turns touch.
Magnetized or severed.
A pole brings these bodies heat.
Trees to vibe the eternity of mind.
Closed or open eyes.
Still. So still. But swaying.
Breath. what Breath!
Curtains drawn.
Exposé in deep sweet hay.

Surrounded in blonde straw and blue sky,
overcome with illustrious smells.
Beckoned into each moment.
Carefree. But paused.
Rolling and sunk in 

with the beetles and spiders.
Surpassed and passing all previous selves.
Progressed and pretty
all in a heap.
Swinging in the light.
My pleasant force for this present time.

Ripping layers of sticky roots.
each blade a painless tear through fuchsia.
A shown shroud.
Flashing through endless moments.
Twisted thoughts searching for anchors.
My sea wind hair blessed with sweet sweat and cedar necks
and wings rhythmic beat
of true flutter-bys of those butterflies.

In deep and pure,
laughing skin - a fragrant touch.
Pleased to be healed.
Free to be free.
Desires known above
to be wrought in the dirt.
Stretched and pliable,
no trembles of the bugs.
We crawl in unison
Turning in our own cavern;
a sea of vibrant forest peaks.
Which hollow to find?
But this one is right!
Wrong, who can tell.

Sheltered stories left behind.
Each own rise and fall
and force and call
a pregnant gift to the altar of life.
Meaning and grief,
shaking ecstasy but brief.
Jocund terror in stride
Horror abounding, stinging inside.
Fecal disease
and death and decay.
Haunting ends
and restless dismay
the passing on from brethren concealed.
Who but us to yield?

Sweet breath of hearts take me to stay!
Show me more beneath the hay.
Past roots and warm soil,
stirring coloured soups and vibrant toil.
Secrets shining in the deep
overwhelmed awakened sleep;
but calling in this chasm steep
not a voice to hear my weep.
Finding fast, and all consumed
Jewels bound in hidden rooms.
Once upon my hearts wrought-iron gate,
I can start my sweet escape.
Well below that sun and sky,
tethered to this first goodbye.
Each foot and grip, and slip, and hold,
still shocking frost, of earths wet cold.
A plunge, or twist, or flicking step,
dizzying winds to trip in depth.