His bohemian trail’s a shadow
courting early hours.
Elegant in frost and freedom,
moon’s wise-dog is lingering
insight, testing scent.
He knows I watch him circle
starlit thoughts between us,
that I glean his wake
for echoes of another world
beyond this hide in space.

and then this ~ beloved friend J reworked and out-fox’d me *smiles*

His bohemian shadow
courts the early morning
frost, my elegant freedom.

A mongrel moon lingers
in sight of testing scent,
alert to crescent starlight
thought between us.

I glean his waking echo
for other worldly space,
for us to hide.

Dim blur pools to form the shape
of wind this time, spills
weightless shadow on mind’s veil.
Reason’s dogma must
dissolve in space and distant lie.

Otherwise, between perception,
intuition and all things,
you’ll stare at the wall, unmoved.
More still in flesh than
undeveloped photographic

elements discarded, turned away,
frightened of exposure.
We are both pools of shapely
vision, weightless veils
and shadow stones, turning time.

Mud turns slow to stone
around heel-heavy imprints,
earthbone’s marked for life
with sunken hieroglyphics,
fossilized at vanish point.

Dreams are signed on skin.
Barely legible, their tracks
are staggered, silly patterns
tripping over crow’s feet
nimble with oblivion.

stars’ distant flight doesn’t break
sky silence down

here
thought moves
gentle leaves’
sweet green
tongue-soft

midnight on your breath
moves me to say …

Solitary grey man dances
with a red umbrella,
feigning freedom outside
Edwards’ wine bar.

Summer dresses cling and
blur through rainy glass.
The scathing edge of rejection’s
glancing blow bleeds
flirtation to a bitter end.

Afterwards, there is more than silence.
Words pulse in phantom fingertips,
mapping skin-dreams, trailing wild-sense.
Afterwards there is more. Then silence.

Tenderly, thought moves mere absence,
over-arching mind to find eclipse.
Afterwards, there is more-than silence.
Words pulse. In phantom, finger tips.

Moon’s eye gazes, surface-still,
reflections’ sheen on slow-cold;
water guards your deep so well.

Silence bears deer tension,
wild cat scent is just another
hunt without a start-line.

A stone falls in the lake and
caution circles, intuition’s
pale light glances filmy glaze.

No-one dares to stay or see
you stare down fear and all
illusion’s poise, to see you
move all ways at once.

your place:
minimalist cold with
half truths’
mumble, glossing over
could-a never-beens
hiding from the dread
full rain

or mine
among untidy words
jousting for the couch,
climbing walls
to dance on ceilings

where
shadows flower, straggle
in flamboyant
mis-matched verse,
unkempt and without care
for staid perfection.
petals listen for the rain,
recall every fall.

Sirens draw flat-line to night,
dream scattered owl-talk
fades while talons
skewer masked intentions’
pre-dawn dialogue with rage.

They hunt
we hide

behind soft curtains, held
in the net of disbelief.
A glimpse of what we think
we’re not. Entombed.

I’ll fingerprint this night;
luminescent daubs
might lead straight to you.

Still, lines cobweb silver
trace of thought,
belight the pliant bough
that holds my wait.

Leaves scrape at glass, gather in a crackle,
fill yard corners with bright memories
and gossip at the edge of winter’s mercy.

Their brittle voices are already precious
ghosts, disturbing skeletals,
colours dashed against the wall,
to the ground, summer kites unbound.

I’ll move them later, gather up each voice
that was, listen to the echoes leaving
in the wind and wonder how it’s done,
this unstrung madness falling into grace.

Upside down, or so it seems, bats hang.
Dreams cape tree in ruffled dark,
sonar drifting, idle taste of moth in air.
Shy leather fans hold echoes
fur-close, cradle sound of stormy night.

Inside out, or so it seems, mind stabs
evasive moon yet misses heart.
Unspoken torment, wind impounds
for fun. Fortunate that flame
endures long life for moth to fly at all.

Quiet sense of wing, hush, don’t disturb
the night. Thought-fire only ever
rests for dawn to tip cool branch with sun.
Let me watch dark shadows – slide
to kiss then leave your shoulders bare.

Raucous autumn skirts round carnal flirt;
rain tiered breeze stirs interest wild,
gold-leafs thought, recalls warmer time.
Anticipation senses change is due,
sweet November shower scents first move.

Coy night slides low day to silken shade,
where I dream. Alone – but for you,
teasing velvet from grey sky to wind
around my tired fingertips, lest I
forget how seasons follow one another.

All tied up in cloudy dreams, night-nevers
and this lightning rush of heart to skin,
earth trembles. Empty ground is lost to night
crows teasing sleep into mad earth. Stars melt

me back to you whole-blooded. Make a move
now, in this dark that only ever speaks
of those who ache this much to fall on light.

Your cigarette weeps heat on flesh as dawn’s
blush raises faint horizon, strips it of
another’s heresy. Lover, mark me
well with sun-warm tongue before I sleep.