Poetry II


Like Elizabeth Bennett,

I walked at dawn,

but out of the mist

you were not revealed,

and the breaking sun did

not make our meeting lips

glint.  Once, this romantic fool

kissed your lips as they

kissed mine,

and fools we remained,

soothed by the

never touching

of love’s ending.



No logos

No reason is

Love bounced

From the beat

Of primal hearts.



Know my love is not

Contingent which is why it

Is called love and

Not something

Other in my

Existence as a

Pushover – the only

Position worthy

Of such a sublime




Sunshine welcomes

Us into its beam

And lets us dance

A rainbow on

Its sacred pool of

Love as it bleeds darkly

Through all eternity.


Ode to Bob D.

my daily mind

and nightly wonder


as I dream

a dream of you


all surprise

imagined lives


a strange demise

of crimson tide


what shall I do?

how can it be?


that all is one

and won not me.




Sounds like




The world is

Alive on the

Tune of a fork

Strum of guitar

Bead on a prayer

Kiss on the lips

Touch of a heart

Nod of a head

Wink of the dharma

Purr of a cat

Song of a bird

Shake of a tree

Grin of the devil

Sense of you.


Own not

Do not mistake

My kiss for

A padlock.



Love is

A no thing




And love speaks

without rhythm or rhyme

perfectly displaced

between us.



In my rush

To arrive I

Come to the

Truth late and

Still love is

Never anything because

It is an immanent

No-thing and

That is the

Only learning

Worthy of a



Knowing Fool

I know your

Ageing frown.

I know your

Bad breath.

I know your

Itching feet.

I know your

Angry disdain.

I know your

Fragile cowardice.

I know your

Loving smile.

I know your

Splitting heart.

I know your

Indifferent logos.

I know your

Cutting tongue.

I know your

Searching eyes.

I know your

Holding arms.

I know your

Steadfast devotion.

I know your

Tender vulnerability.

I know I am foolish and

It is the only way

I know Love.



The world as

Object sets me

As a singularity

Against its scene,

Defining my shape

As vapour and

My laughter as

Sound without

Vision, my touch

Without hand

And all my love

As blood pumping

Through your veins.


Building a mystery

I don’t buy

Into the projected


Only our moment

By moment revelation,

Which is magnificently

So much

More and yet

Nothing at all.



I can revel

In you until

I am safe

Then I will have

To leave for fear

Of too long

A sleep unless

You can stay

Awake with me.


Lucky Love

She held on tight,

Backed up harsh

Against the bark

Aswell as laid back

Heavily into the grassy bed

All under the vast

Sunshine glare – love lingered

Amidst aroma of

Salt and soil

Wet and dense

Rough and awake,

Until the flaming globe

Beat down and willed

Scorched skin to sleep in

Never to be repeated,

But eternally remembered

Moments of a lucky

Life, infused with




We kindled and

Momentarily lit

A fire

That never

Roared but incessantly

Smouldered to sustain

The red-hot ash

Of love original

And unfettered.




Head to toe

Breathing in

Bleeding out

Wretched hearts

Hearts of wretch

The double bind

Of a glorious whole.


Life’s potion

We ebb and flow

Free to sail to

And fro from heart to

Heart in a breath

Beat in and out

Returning to a

No home where the

Free heart

Resides in an

Elixir of longing.



The mistress

The muse



A Plea

Write me something


to pierce my heart

with agony and love

so that your absence is present.


Always You

It is not so much

that I get a sense of myself

when, or if I do,

so much as I get a sense

of not you,

my dearest.

Beyond the fleeting,

if not mistaken

merge and union,

please accommodate

your not

in order to ensure our

viable living.

That’s really

all there is to

our unavoidable separateness.

Always you,

everlastingly me.


A Vicious Cycle


in a moment


in a flash


in the moonlight


in the sunshine


from the raindrops


amidst the demons


in his sigh


in a moment.



Nothing to offer

in abundance

is my gift to you.



Not a leaf left

on the immature tree

outside my window today.

Rain dancing a pirouette

on the sill

as I lay

half covered and disillusioned.

Roaring in the comedy

of our absurd sensuality

filled with a truth of love momentarily

visceral and phantasmic.


Heart of the Matter

The heart yearns

that’s its job –

an organic vitality of truth

in exquisite and ugly form

without mediation is the truth of things.

In each breath beating its truth

and having its truth beaten

a push and pull

birth and death

yearns the very heart

of our human animality.



Love fervently present

is untouchable

and kisses me softly.



I am here

you are there

which is no different.



Slow said the vulnerable tortoise

from a homely cumbersome protective shell.

Soon enough said the guru

ailing from adoring fans.

Sigh enough said the lover

breathing in decay.

Life enough said death

in absentia.



Seated along the river bank

Wolfreys’ Derrida incomplete

I watch your strokes softly cut through

the seamless ripples

as water babes do

when at home with gnats and newts

and electric dragon flies.

No lack in this August day Oasis.




in aching decay

is love

of the most glorious



Hara Bowl


that rests in me

resides in a bowl of tears

located somewhere deep in my belly –

my still point –

when touched

ripple upwards

and flow from my eyes

so revealing my Love.



I am here

That is enough.

You are here too

That is more than enough.

When we are all here –

My God!




My friend

Your tears

Squeeze my heart

And roll down my cheeks.



I drink your words,

luscious liquid lyric and song;

polemic poetic passion seeping,

oozing out

on to my tongue;

I taste I slurp I swish

I swallow;

And spit life back

into the air.


Full again


until your entry

filling up, full.

Jigsaw completed

just that piece

the piece you had

all along in your pocket

and in that moment

picture painted.

Drinking in

spilling out




Homely dwelling

In that blissful moment of entry

no matter which door you use,

I see light all around

and sense death in the air

I want nowhere else to go

as in that moment I am darkly home.

Slam the door, hard.

Turn the key and twist.

Lock the door,

do not withdraw

and leave me homeless

or I shall survive and be dead once more.



What pleasures revealed

as I read through your eyes and ears.

Awake my heart beating more than the night before

with a pulse racing rapid and rabid for more

of you.


Illusive belonging

Everything is waiting for me

said David so eloquently.

And I see

And I see

so clearly and free

no sense of me as I sit here

dreaming, beaming, eyes streaming,

there is no house of belonging for me.

I want a house of belonging

built of your arms,

your eyes, your lips, your words.

Be my house as

I surrender to yours,

in all illusion.


Secret surrender

Nail me to the cross

not because I am worthy

but because I am not.

A secret something nothing

A chance meeting of luck

An honest dark decaying fuck

Spurt into me a moment of knowing

when life itself is all a glowing

slowing mock as

I love you.


Lying cups

Lie to me

and say that you will come,

say that you will stay

forever and a day

in my arms

while all the world about us

turns and yearns.

Just one more lie for the

simple cup of tenderness

that we drink from.



The sun it beckons

precisely at the moment

I notice it isn’t there.

Precisely at that moment

I am wanting.

Who is this I that wants?

That basks in the shadows.

Who is she that dances

Salaciously prances

in the darkness:

her home

that you spark?


Surrender is no Sacrifice

I know instability is the truth

Give me stability.

I know staying is impossible

Please stay.

I know loving is not an option

Love me, love me.

Our existence in negation

and perfect symmetry

meeting at the centre

is illusion of perfect unity

whereby surrender is no sacrifice.