As we lie in the swan neck of spent love, my hands play the ivory rush of your skin, summer smooth, petal keys sound out the first chord.
Off the Rails At midnight, the town travels, swallowed as snake joined, dot to dot houses, breathing through windows, illusion borne currents, electric gold, mirrored and flaming.In my mind, I control it,...
Can I tell you before it’s tarnished? Before the lichen crust absolves me of need to share?
There is no figure of night pieced together from patches of dark room, scrambled light of a blink.
Licorice legs and a walnut shell. You could be a crab, tired of the grainy shore, the glucose whirl of a gluey sea.
Fantasy’s stamp is upon this sky From the cloud dust remains of a quartet of ghosts, they grow, gather pace on the carousel,
Back Home Mumbles greets, with pop-to-shop chatter, the ping of welcome, the smell of new, Welsh crafted gifts and the slow-down of browse.Home is in the accent, in the dragon on...
My hands are imagining you, the cool pale, your shoulders, like hawk wing, I sculpt,
The aunts never shaved their legs. They rolled up their trousers and ran into the sea.