Shangri-La

in your mews house
up from the clock tower
the french doors swung wide open
your long white summer dress
each button undone revealing
another inch of flesh for me to kiss
working my way slowly up your legs
I rested my head on your belly
felt the rise and fall of your breathing
smelt the salty scent of sea breeze
the fern in the green glazed jardinière
the only other movement in the room
deep in this warm canyon
your fingers ran through my hair
as if the outside wasn’t there
although somewhere came the echo
of scaffolding being taken down

not altogether clear

it’s not altogether clear
how we made it here
your brother’s house
somewhere near Elm Grove
on a settee, you and me
the washed up night’s debris
and there you fucking are
in my baggy blue jumper
must’ve lent it to you earlier
though where we go from here
is not altogether clear
when two worlds collide
those worlds can’t run and hide
your life versus mine
like we both stepped out of line
but somehow that seems fine
and there you are sleeping
in my two dead tingling arms
afraid to move in case
that drunk smile on your face
is lost from my close up view
dried vodka spittle lips on you
smeared make up, angular hips
morning breath, white as death
no, it’s not altogether clear
what the fuck I’m doing here
think I’m falling in love with you
but then again I don’t know you
what and when and why and who
did this thing just really happen
seems a long time since back then
the vods, the beach, the first kiss
I’m not altogether sure about this
I’m gonna need a piss soon
there’s light coming in from the moon
or is it morning coming out too soon
so frail and helpless
in a world that couldn’t care less
just see if I can ease myself out
you’re still out for the fucking count
there’s cramp in my shoulder
I drank so much I’m sober
happens that way sometimes
gotta piss, gotta leave this house
your brother’s fucking house
for fuck’s sake it’s getting late
it’s getting early, can’t stay and wait
for you to wake and then what
your brother comes downstairs
a growling hungry hungover bear
and then what, and then what
it’s not altogether clear
my nose in your ear
I’m sliding to the floor
crawling to the door
I’m out in the cold air
I’ve left you there, in there
wearing my baggy blue jumper
I must’ve given it you earlier
I light the last Marlboro red
first rays of sun stroke my head
takes a piss behind his shed
still taste your vodka lips on mine
it’s like we both stepped out of line
not altogether clear how this came about
how we made it here, made it there
and will we find each other again
any some fucking where

falling

she crashed through the door
bought liquor, Marlboro reds
staggered about, left, came back
another crash, she swung about
bells ringing like it’s Sunday
not Saturday night, late night
about to close up, pull the shutters
tally up the takings, light my own
long drag in, dim the strips
want to join me she says
but I’m shy, she’s drunk
whole town is drunk, me I work
it’s late, night is young
tempted, what the fuck, fuck it
come on, she laughs at me
there’s a hint of Irish in her smile
momentarily mesmerised
who is this girl, where did she
where did see come from, drunk
done, locked, doors shut, locked
it’s all locked, check again
hey what you waiting for
she holds the bottle to her lips
vodka, it’s vodka, it’s a Stoli
shit I gave to her cheap
she holds out her hand and
you know what, I’m falling
let’s go to the beach, she says
but it doesn’t sound like that
words slurred, vodka lips
take her hand, just take it
it’s a short walk, alleys, bars
late night, shouts in the dark
she passes me the bottle
the vodka taste of lipstick
mesmerised, I’m falling
we stumble onto the beach
stones in banks, steepish slopes
finding the right angle
not too steep, not too flat
vodka lips, vodka breath
it’s a Stoli, gave it cheap
make up the rest tomorrow
exchanging names, falling
she shouts my name, loud
echoes on the water
echoes on the moon
our faces reflected in the bottle
Marlboro red glow
midnight sunset eyes
fingers in fingers in hair
in her mouth, biting
and I’m falling for her
this drunk girl, the beach
we’re part of the night
we’re part of each other
no turning back, falling
me for her, her for him
there’s something more there
behind the bravado, subtle
a story to tell, unfolding
falling, the night is falling
we’re both falling and then
what will happen, what next
we don’t fucking care

your name and mine

the storm last night blew
the last remaining heart-shaped leaves
from the poplar trees
and swirled them through my darkest dreams
in which your knuckles rapped upon my eyelids
in which you called from beyond the clouds
my name and your name

and with growing intensity
every last remaining rusting roofing nail
that keeps my house from blowing asunder
jiggled like loose teeth in a crowded coffin box
on which your fingers had once released
the suffocating soil to bury my voice
from that day forth

oh that I would recognise you now
with your hair tangled in windblown knots
and your limbs akimbo amongst the fallen branches
strewn upon the orchard grass
where leaves lie rotting and colour is drained
from cheeks that once were apple flushed
with your lover’s kisses

you are but the ambient past to me
pliant and fluid with a light that glimmers
not guiding or warning or even moving
but still as a mirror on an oaken table
your calfskin gloves neatly folded
heart-shaped leaves from the poplar trees
pressed between the pages of your journal

all substance turned to dust that blows
on the opening of the crackling memory
you offered me no more than you could
the leaf held to the moonlight reveals its veins
as if the blood has been preternaturally drained
and I am left with only an echo
of your name and mine

Prairie Wishes

I want to live out on the prairie
A little house with a south facing porch
Gentle slope down to a wide expanse
Cool evening breeze to soothe the soul

I want to live out on the front porch
Kill time to the beat of the swing seat
Watch the ruby-throated hummingbirds
Cool kisses from my honey’s sweet lips

I want to live out on the swing seat
Rock to and fro in her warm embrace
Talk of this and that and nothing more
Until the evening sun leaves to rest

I want to live out in her warm embrace
Her voice washing over me in waves
You know that’s all I ever really wanted
But some wishes never will come true

we kissed

we kissed in the red phone box
until our teenage lips were sore
and in your mother’s unmade bed
her hippy mattress on the floor

we kissed in the silent church yard
amongst the souls who died at war
and holding hands at nightfall
by these glowing moonlit shores

we kissed in the uncut wheat field
under golden rays outdoors
and at the party of a mutual friend
we yearned for something more

we kissed in the poetry book section
of our favourite secondhand store
and there we found the three words
we had dared not speak before

we kissed in the same red phone box
until our adult lips were almost sore
and in this unmade marriage bed
our trendy futon on the floor

 

 

in a maelstrom

we are behind the screen hiding

and your lips are very wet

and when we kissed I drowned

and my lungs filled with your fluid

we were lipids confused together

chemically ambient

up to our necks in duplicity

fondling the fibres of each other’s

upholstered limbs

sweetie rappers on fairy dust

snorting sexual desires up inside

four pupils and nostrils flared

ahhhhhh!! the expectation

the kiss of your blissfulness

the wet of your lipstick drool

your nipples are for suckling pigs

your crackling for carnivores

and yes

there were times when it almost happened

out beyond the blue that filled your canvas

or the hallowed shapes that haunted your studio

lines permanently crosshatched

perfunctorily placed with deft indecision

spit spat and splattered upon

those wet licks that ran down the fusions  

of my spine and emptied me whole

in a quivering

in a maelstrom

Swipe (v.9. 16.16)

Greenshank Warhol Monika

the hex filled monk

and HIV Cruickshank

owner of the Hawaiian ski chateau

met Moira Edo with her

Goodnight Knights featuring

PJ Plunge the rethinker

looking everso F-stop Kuhn bold

on the road to K.D’s Lounge

 

There’s this geek up on Outgrew Creek

said Greenshank Warhol Monika

The police jugfested him today / okay

tried to thread poor Jerry Potter’s hooker

He’s Ethiopian / the type you weigh and rip

as if it were Hollywood or Vlad / or

Dustin Hoffman in the Grad / or Greek

Ought we to trip? spoke Moira underbreath

if we’d to loop old Polovitch? sonofabitch

 

For Iris Offshoot the workweek endeth

She took u and ur and rested upendeth

The Goodnight Knights took hydraulics

said it gave them a lift / made them suspended

but no one knew except PJ Plunge

the rethinker and Master Conjurer

knifing / oiling / decking / lining

Life’s death rhythm abuser

The arch ingress Welch Kruger

 

Yes her that married HIV Cruickshank

the owner of the Hawaiian ski chateau

The nights they spent ethylene wishing

justifying lifts and hailing storm clouds

earth rich / restful / potted

uninjured like chilly myths sought

outweighed / omitted / outgrowing

The Knights were outriding

servo judging Keith’s jitters

 

Hush Hush Khufu

your gifts occur plighted

rock harshened / injured / interned / jilted

Leah turns to Greenshank Monika

sheds tear upon tear upon tear upon

the footstep door of K.D’s Lounge

an open door to Golden Operatunities

but only kisses fled her billed cheek

tongued entwined with reminiscences

 

It was time to place the full stop .

 

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