she’s bright lunacy – not a simple touch,
when stars design extravagance
to lighten rib, hip with a taunt of violent
breath sparking yet another comet
he sleeps adequately:
night’s a measured arm-length, dreams
well, they might talk about all that,
consider it without emotion’s flagrant
turmoil melting flimsy sheets
birds pick at devastated bones
the crossroad's loud with life's undoing
splinters fly and fall
where blood soaks earth like afterbirth
crow caws a rise few recognise
the brutal nightmare's barely started
in the wake of violent heroics
she is the fertile raw of stars and fury
birds pick at bones, the crossroad’s
loud with life’s undoing
splinters fly and fall, mark where
blood soaked earth like afterbirth
crow caws a rise few understand
carries her until the nightmare’s over
in the wake of violent heroics
she is the raw of stars
every sense devoured, released and distant
now, her colours wash in moonlight
jasmine scents the way around her garden
while the city haunts, desperate
for another round of take-away bravado
in the sleek of night it seems
she might be silvered smoke – rising
silence
starlight spools, unwinds from a dark wild core
barely charted in the haste to leave-be
“i can’t see the stars,” she said
in the bleach of sudden yard-light
insecure yet keen of step and sigh
no-matter’s an invisibility that haunts;
scanning atoms for their precious leaves,
every one’s so complicated
“find here,” she says
You shut the door with a click not a slam
nor a hesitant half-close
like an eyelid flickering in dream,
recognising time to wake but craving
seconds before opening to pearly distance.
Yes, it was definitive, that click : off and out
you bleed into the finest coffee,
gulp a manic blush to
bitter’s end, tell me to hush, gently
ask, “where’s the nearest bar
that might accommodate
a breakdown of communication?”
i thought to tell you that it’s deep
with me, somewhere else,
but you’re the one who’s drowning
inspired by Noxalio's poem "there's plenty of coffee there"
the circle tips and we slip,
beads of the same thread
colliding sideways;
on the edge but touching now
we spin over it,
dream of being
shiny stones in a pond
or feathers cast adrift in rain,
a scattered whirl in flight
everywhere
making circles of our own,
spinning wilder dreams
to find us;
time’s compulsion nullified
now the night is awesomely indifferent,
a voyeur star-ing down, unsisterly,
thought slips on edgy gravel underfoot,
dice rolling echoes into silence;
it’s time to spin like dust …
escape in the rise of alien birdsong,
shiver through each tonal beauty
beside yours, so painfully untouchable
australian dawn chorus not essential listening, not a soundtrack either, just a by the way
she’ll tip a dark stiletto to your lip
guide her wave to yours
curl martini hips like a smile
pressed into action for the time
of moon or year or simple pleasure
in the act of love – so cool
in showtime’s final blow – to kiss
image: nathan rohlander
In the dark after words my cloudy breath
wandered four slow hours.
An icy fern crawled the bedside window;
its fingertip entered mine and grew inside
like doubt: first one thin spine then more,
then fractal buds, curled fists
ready with an urge to freezeframe thought.
You slept through it all, one arm curled
around my glassy form.
Perhaps this time I will not break,
wake more than less in touch.
re-visioned December 19
image: the bohemian gothic tarot deck (lovers)
spiritguide.com.au
your fatal axis, volatile, eccentric,
de-brides moonfull thought
which is why i’m whittling rage,
an-atomic afterglow
in extraordinary orbit,
we grace stubborn opposition
memories bounced then slid on wine
heading for the screendoor.
unfamiliar with the layout
of my moonish mind
they twisted, drowned exquisitely.
ethanol laments
abandonment; who cries about
the violin you smashed?
you’re a ghost on my doorstep
marking time, unstrung.
one bad patch in the afternoon
after summer’s chase.
———————————
what i actually posted in the challenge noted in last post …
the ten words?
patch memories violin doorstep laments afternoon bounced chase screendoor cries
moon’s patch on the doorstep
won’t shape your shadow
now that afternoon’s been crushed
by the slam of metal into blood
cooling
go now darling go
your gaze a total wild of love
before the screendoor
closed, memories untouched
by the chase of metal into bone
again
and again we break
this started out as a challenge on critical poet but i couldn’t use the ten words offered … didn’t even mean to write this really but my heroangelcat was killed on the road a few weeks ago whilst coming to greet me from the car .. guess i needed to try and write something but this is nothing like a tribute … maybe that will come when i am free of selfish tears
i love you, Rusty
open palm: gently. watch the gold
moth-flicker swell to air
dive into the wait of blue
remember
how a tremor tickled flight
inside: a lifeline
———————————-
————————————————
image courtesy and copyright of Stuart Dunlop
the rush of you
intangible
fast forward
life and death
(collision course
a-mist in dream)
unraveled
endings whirl
'n' jazz
(beyond) ordinary lines
bar the lascerated edge of time
my breast is pert
spine’s contraption upright
after all the brutal
sometimes
you see light tremble in my hair
and wonder – that i’m barren
though wings crowd my ankles
balanced on high heels
stuck in rain-sweet ground
the kind i listen to
seems more real
than words
i cannot understand,
intensifies
a car door slam, voices
toning reprimand,
engine guns
a noise of thought
buzzing tired eyelids;
after a storm
cobweb cradles diamond
gently
my babes are dying, wanna watch?
you can’t hurt us any more;
mine’d enough, slow poison weights
each sigh – gonna look yet?
take your slick hands off my thigh
while that godforsaken wallet
ticks and counts desire as meaning
less, the interest paid reluctantly;
i’m choking, fool, touch us there
while the ocean fills with bones
revision
remind me how it goes, the litany:
one-sided being’s greedy
drenched in birth of need,
clinging to sweet balance, hung
on echoes of a mother’s day.
i got it, then i saw the news:
another spillage day.
my car’s off the road, needs
more oil to stem the bleed.
i feed the birds
share pleasantries,
pretend all’s right.
airbrushed eyelids quiver,
spin the rem again.
original
remind me how it goes, the litany:
one-sided being is a greed
drenched in simple birth of need
clinging to sweet balance hung
on echoes of a mother’s day.
i got it, ‘til i saw the news:
another oil-spill of a day.
my car is off the road, i need more
cash to stem the bleed
feed bright birds
share pleasantries
pretend that everything’s alright.
airbrushed on my eyelid quiver
shades of madness spin the rem again.
inspired by Paul’s performance and my strange mood …
revision
i love what your hands do but
that gunshot haunts
like starlight
crashing bright ‘n’ dirth
and now the godly birdsong
hurts to hunt
every pain or joy i snared
wanting just to know
how it works
how it bleeds to fly
so like me crawling to the edge
hanging over
to watch starlight spike
loose bolts of earth ’n’ birth
beloved J’s version – way Lighter than mine turned out *heh
i love your hands
but gunshot haunts
like starlight crashing
bright ‘n’ dirth
and now the birdsong
hurts to hunt
every pain or joy i snare
just wanting to know
how it works,
how it perks,
how it bleeds to fly,
like me crawling to the edge
to watch starlight spike
loose bolts of earth
’n’ birth, hung over
original
i love what your hands do but
that gunshot haunts
like starlight
crashing bright ‘n’ dirth
and now the godly birdsong
hurts to hunt
every pain or joy i caught
and pulled the wings off
wanting just to know
how it works
how it bleeds to fly
so like me
crawling to the edge and
hanging over
to watch starlight fall
through spokes of birth ‘n’ earth
night’s precious independence
weaves shadow
slide of grace in streetlight glow;
she’s still here, a quiet ache
sense
magnified
between tree and star, silence
is a-dream in breeze,
a tremble of herself in silver
blossom so, gently now
grind to a halt in the crawler’s lane.
on a bridge. decide.
the barrier’s too highly strung,
there’s no space to rev and fly sure
enough. car might burn and they’d
save your crush, debride
what’s left forever
(you’ll wish you’d jumped. forever)
get out. you’ll have to storm the void
full-breath, tip the axis quantified
by rush hour fear of survival.
you’re on the bridge. now decide.
she likes them to fight back in her way
your last breath should fit parameters,
maid of Prada’s best
accomplished minion, faking it of course
careful, sweets, don’t rub my shoulder
the wrong way, blade’s a’waiting
moon’s need of a beautiful new scar, one
that doesn’t contravene her
craving for perfection’s granite
face, tranquil in dimensions’ turn
careful, sweets, don’t touch this blade,
its response is pointed inward
this poem is not about painting glass,
a slide of ghostlines focus into silhouette
bird captured in bright colour swirl
“this is going nowhere,” she thinks
an echo of a someone else, transparent
maybe her
before another coughs and says
“you’re painting in fresh blood?”
maybe hers
so here they are, those shadow voices
at the door with starling confirmation
of a cut lawn, fuschia dripping
luscious pink on sunburst daisy chains
knowing that a link has burned, up and out;
this poem is not about how freedom works.
————
The Wild Challenge (in brief):
Write a poem using the techniques of reversal and denial. Begin your poem with the words “This poem is not about . . . then go on to write the poem. Occasionally come back to the statement: “This poem is not about . . .”
sliding to evade the stains
i’m all out of here-see-
me, sneaking down the stairs
please find borderline
excuses, mirrored
wax a scarlet hiss;
the aviary inside my ribs
will not shut up
until daylight pierces
palms and eyelids,
songbird screaming
open now
my not-posted response to a one-word title challenge on Wild Poetry
*ahem .. there was a very poor draft here … i meant to remove it last night but got caught up phone-wise! it wasn’t ready for showing so your comments were spot-on, Emilio, thank you! *hugs
the flowery cliffs, climb with the girl
whose battleground is night,
when the watcher comes.
She shows me where stars gather,
re-marks Pegasus with Indian
summer palms; he is her favourite.
My girl prepares to face the entity astride
defiance bright with alchemy,
a firstblood stance packed with a vital strike.
I reclaim her courage to say no,
climb cliffs for flowers, to be difficult and wild.
unposted draft for a poetry challenge on Wild Poetry Forum;
they want an “i reclaim my inner child” type thing and i’m not really into that, not in public anyway *heh
raw bend of metal round the corner
greets the meat of other forces,
draws spectators to the roving glare
of Sunday’s red and blue;
the shearing of confinement
takes awhile
mean times, inside, someone
cries into dark walls
about the crash of breath in bone
yet stone appears, unmoved
Smooth as secrets daring to slip out
and knife our shadow lives
cold swam in veins, cruised parlour talk
with the end of everything.
“Are we going to die?”
Mother drank her dreams, turned away.
I thought of birds and horses
burning in the darkness of a scream.
i
Aphrodite lit another torch,
watched smoke gather, dissipate
faster than mortality
in the pretty afterglow of war,
of mossy islands, unkempt beds,
cute lives blind-folded.
She had time enough to kill
a quiet night at home, brooding
on the nature of volcanic ash.
The torch burned low – like him;
she ground it out on her favourite iris,
delighted at how petals fold and fry.
ii
Geraldine patched up her wound,
the latest in a city of bad luck;
she lit a cigarette, watched
smoke whirl and weave
slower than the time it took
to self-destruct in loathsome beds
though vibrant chaos promised
otherwise … come closer, now
The cigarette burned low – like her;
she ground it out on her arm,
enchanted that she felt – nothing
anyway
let’s meet in the lace drift
of a clouded moon,
scatter pentagrams like feathers,
watch them flutter land;
240,000 miles trounce a mere
jaunt of 10,000
thoughts floating your way,
can we time them
and still count star circles?
the cart rolled on bearing her and all
those voices mad with passion
bad for everybody else,
better that she burn and take it
that way
“just another witch in heat”
they said.
snowflakes dithered at the window
some tarried longer, spidering
the moving glass with crystal melt;
into these she projected everything
that would be gone soon,
dispersed in shockwaves generated
to disperse all scandal, neuter
the reality of one too many lovers
on the balance sheet.
he crumpled mad co-ordinates,
(imprinted DNA’s corrupt,
flaws everything)
no allowance made for zero’s
disembodied influence
on form
yet wyrd
cat smelled of rain, washed his
paws of the crash about to
never happen
this time
yet
alternative title : mary’s earth
talking to the wind started it:
the fall and risk of rib on
mountains bleeding holy hell
while numbers screamed
irrational but unavoidable delay
magpies gather on the sunstone
chatter into sameness
compare smoke ‘n’ mirrors’
masquerade, perfectly united
lips moistened with fine rain kiss
nothing, but the fearless wild
spins and whirls two hundred birds
one rush of thought
in giant, wheeling freeflow;
i’m inside the storm, a swallow
of unfinished rhythm
spitting feathers at an empty page
re-vision 3 – thank you mojave!
i’m inside the storm
a swallow
spitting feathers at an empty page
ready to tear down the sky
chase clouds;
lips moistened with fine rain.
nothing, but the fearless wild
spins and whirls two hundred birds
one rush of thought
in giant, wheeling freeflow;
i want to kiss you. now.
image: francesca dimond
mist swam between dark trees
a silver shawl unraveling
to float, turn seamless moments
into thought, unwind like steam
in wheel arches, round in silent
ground we go; are you here
to see hawk wings
heave across this windscreen
a rainbow perched impossibly
above us?
in full glide, she saw my gaze, accepted it;
her perfect stillness and surrender to
the drift of slipstream’s tongue mirrored
rapture just before the climax
your breath such sweet caress, love
sunlight curled around my arm, smoothflow
wing touch brought me into perfect
stillness and a raven’s eye; i saw her gaze,
accepted it, shared rapture just before …
this morning’s heartraw, an exquisite echo of desire;
birds and leaves tumble in the wind,
gusting, whirling, mad dreams all but breaking
in the heave, the violence of air;
part of me is jousting with the clouds,
the rest a swallow of unfinished rhythm
choked on winter’s pressing need
to turn the savage wheel : my hands are tied to it;
precious little mercy to be gained from what-ifs
silent gulls crusade in freeflow
they know how to ask for more than sky;
self destruction’s teasing lips moistened with fine rain
blankets round their limbs to hasten
drowning soaked up
rolling clouds’ reflective mood,
gathered weight from
the curl of deepest bloodflow,
hovered on the sprawl of night
cold loss drifting
towards muddy gaze, water’s
flight through airspun lungs;
hush, though the radar’s deaf down here
forget me now 
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