A Treasure Of Quicksilver, In Time

What on earth

my eyes, half closed

half...unaware.

restless, almost asleep

my glance focuses into gaze.

soft light

shadows,

some parlance for joy muttered in another language.

quiet.

I don't know what I am waiting for...

sirens? Majesty?

Something untranslated...burning?

I came to herald you...but I ran aground on the moment

quiet, on the grassy field, covered in 35 mm,

coveted, consumed, like quicksilver

lost in a drain

lost like a derailed train

coaxed into the ether

a treasure of time,

history delineated into mystery,

misery, perjury, purgatory,

purchases, surcharges, and far off sounds imitating sinister hysterics...

quiet.

All is hidden here, in the moment,

stolen from the banging, semi-coherant draining

of the ceiling monster's clanging

inside tonight's apple-core head.

Spooling nothingness.

quiet...quiet, again.

-------------------------

Did you see it, There, in the faint misty drifts...?

Back To The Spaceship

Your spaceship came
to pick you up
went back to the stars
to stir them all up
back to the stars
back to the spaceship
back to the galaxies and nebula that birthed the ages

too short to see it

too long to watch it happen

every dot aligns in the place it should be
everything is a conflagration to gasses
unleashed to run the gambit before ash and ashes
reveal the moonlight
on the dark side of the none-too-soon.
we're here
then we're not.
people die waiting on the phone
or during card games
holding hard on to secrets
running rum through old dreams
to keep it
intact
in fact
its nothing but truth eventually
old memories
eventually extinguish relvance in 100 years
we are old chords
sheet music from another age
"Look your Darling Girl!" in waltz time
with a hint of spilled soda water, silver polish; oysters
where old people sing and talk of their throat
imbeciles rail against guns and wheat
can you see what its done to me
to look back into through clocks into
those eyes for which in time there is no explanation?

(right here there is a burst of stars and nothingness)

standing on the rim of the sea
I never know how well I know the seam of the sky
there is no floating cabinet of shadows replicating
no rudderless complication
we're off on a dream
an occasional nightmare seam
a tangent, its plangent scattering evident
and everygreen
ever seen
like bugs on a glass  / autumn window in new york
polished with ash (the graves in chorus)
public and rubric
and stooped
in the valley
of explanation.

Ready / Colour Of The Hour / Memories of London

elegant towns
electric towers
branches that don't reach
much farther than the sky
you're a flower
amongst thorns
red chimneys
and the sea

on this horizon
sky changing color by the hour
whiskey, navels and staples
on the window across the way
you'd explode
left alone
in the same
vampires falling in love
at sunset

and out at sea
new ghosts
and old ghosts
dance the waltz
as daybreaks
like water on the sidewalk
outside the bar
where you threw
your life away

time goes
clocks explode into soon
while I get distracted tying shoes
I'm ready
take me
all the ideas and the
and the bad breaks and the fixated dilated dilapidated eyes
yeah, take me.
a millions panels of broken glass
a thousand souls washed away
by their own pasts
I'm ready

Photographing Oranges In The Sun

go out now

and see the sun

and see the clouds

that played before this tune

100 days we walked around the world

a honking horn

a carpark 

and the boy you decided to be

a thousand memories

a millions songs

will they vanish

when I'm not me?

will the tape erase

my face and the songs that I sing

will there be anything

left that's good

when I am

nothing?

is that something?

more than anything

more than all the clouds in my heart

untapped ideas oranges unreeled

birds will run fallow

in their fathoms 

in the sky

witnessing eclipses

whales spray indicates time

where dreams run parallel

to flames that die down

like all things

its a replay

its a small thought

that means everything

but its something at least

today.

Hold The Old Dreams / Warm / Serene / Nothing to hide

after perdition
rendition
after the railways
had taken us away
after a hundred marilyns had
blown us a kiss
to say no more sighs
no more bloodshed
no more goodbyes
shower us with this
love that last
we are open now
to your brown eyes
we'll not love less
we'll not say yes
to your blasted bloody goodbyes
that shows us in stars
in broken glass
we are open
into the open ended
this is life's surprise

will you put your arms before me in
the air
will you hold your arms in the way
of the human dare
in the open swarm
when bullets sing
and warm air parts to let the screaming
start
here its chaos
I had put a bead on
just for us and
the name of silence
on the surface of the moon
its a jubilee watched
for care's cream soaked images
the tender years
its youth is mine
the darkness soaks its rage
to slag the merriment and the downy warmth
like flightless brides
in cages
where we can watch
your family circle
and
come back
to fire
where we talked so much
about infatuation
and come back on the heel of the moon
on the heel of the moon
on the skin on the moon
on this cave on the moon
on this cave on the sun\we're burning out
before we've
begun.

Harry's Early Summer Soliloquy

just a few hundred meters from the sea
what haunts the cliffs of eden
the footsteps that depress the grass are erased in seconds
by the sun and what could have been

a million people
and then a a million people more
and all their ancestors
awash on these shores
all the neophytes and acolytes
and jacobites
looking for redemption
and the light
but they're gone
like fading laughter
echoing in the darkest reaches
of love

but I
never saw
the edges to find out
if they were parallel
if they were gorgeous
or just a hollowed out shell
that the sea washes through
in the hands of
children wishing for mermaids
with flowing hair
and songs of doom
they let their locks down
in this seaside town

the birds fly by
where once lizards escaped from the drag of time
to grow wings, what other creatures were here
when eons tortured this mountain
once at the bottom of the ocean
where you cannot see
all the things your cells
were once supposed to be
faint creatures made out of nothingness
going to nothingness
being as nothing is
feigning importance
of existence
solitary clings to you like rust
gathers in the cracks of the clocks
stranded in back rooms tackled via gold
where you forget to dust

(unfinished)

All My Sleeps

might
[psychosis over white]
all of those memories
turned over into territories
of the forbidden
the house is ridden of the live mice
they crawl inside
the places old boyfriends hide

let them have the chaos
them them be sea-tossed
dried salted lips,
hung by the neck
with an albatross

just give me an easy life
why won't every single thing be easy?
why do I have to turn on my brain
to fix the same problem over
again?

where are the luscious baskets
of young boys for my endless fantasy parade
when my soul is so ugly
like fruit that never ripens
truth in your life
needs a stipend
to even exist at all

in all of my dreams
in all of these dreams
there was never one so
dishonest-but who deserved the sea