The mouth though,
Words spark electrically.
Out to you.
You get me.
To be young and leaving town.
A new wind’s freshness blowing
convictions that the past can’t stop
the budding of your growth.
Supple truths shape you anew,
Pliant with made friends and lovers.
You have made room with an eager discarding
Of bets hedged, dice blindly thrown,
Sorrows dustily stowed in yesterday’s loft.
But old leaves have a habit of sprouting
In your untended garden.
Lie me in a dream: all foggy precision,
the snot-green sea of Mystery coldly lapping.
Float me apart: my ever-expanding self,
It’s atoms light-speed bound by no-time.
Lay me, allay me: beyond truth and lies
On the outreaches, where the edges blur,
Where beginnings ends begin
have me seeing being everywhere
Until there is no me and all.
When I lie beside you desire satiated
another rises, the annihilation of self,
Usurpation of us. Weary of the want
To be everyone and everything,
Let the loneliness dissolve and the aching be absolved.
Have me either god or woo-woo.
I woke to the wonder of pale curtains
and half-shut blinds.
A reflected moon from the neighbouring
attic window glinting through the slats.
A hypnagogic slender Japanese towel
being dried by the mind-breeze
was unveiling its connection
to the metal step-ladders erect and bedside,
and for an eternal minute
something was about to be revealed.
a childhood of soft kicks
boots with pillows on
silent treatment and tongue-lashings
a bludgeoning of too much
and not enough
black and blue moods
the cathode-ray complicit
truth lies in comedy
friends are funny
he hit you on the head with a brick
back to playing with him tomorrow
Remember the day in ‘66
when ye caught me
wi Labour bumf
an’ ye went mental.
At me, eight years auld.
Ye’d aye been Conservative
and Unionist, cos
“Toffs know how tae haundle money”
Although giein ye were brought up
By the McGairs, fae Laughgall
Ah suspect the Unionism
wis a bigger hook.
Already at that age Ah’d figured oot
Ah’d rether pit ma faith
in a government ah could get rid ae,
than in toffs ah couldnae
And ma inconsequential Da
quietly ticked the SNP box
saying, if ye supported Clyde in Glesca
ye should try an be consistent.
I long for God,
That part of me which is Him.
I see him daily
Nodding to me
As we pass in the street.
We know each other
Intimately and well.
Our Souls kiss in the passing.
He is Everything,
As I am Particular.
He floats to my surface,
Embraces my senses,
Shows me Beyond,
Loves me timelessly.
Oh for skin
nuzzled and smelled
unfeeling layers of it
the thin boundaries
encasing the slippery innards
and no bones about it…
Weeping from your jelly eye
all the details you could muster
Seep into your filmy cluster
I could have licked those tears
as I do now.
Sleep is the ever-expanding balloon
we stretch the night with,
full to bursting with dreams.
An awakening pop,
and we furiously grasp
at the thinning air
evaporating into consciousness
For that air
is the language of unsayable things
awaiting the clutch of an accepting soul.
Movements laced with my breath.
You claim to be naked.
I watch the veils I made shimmer and kiss:
hot, breezily pulsing.
There is more than one dance happening here-
It’s all skins.
The bright light inhaled. With eyes shut,
the voluptuousness deepens.
On another day I will write
about the ineffable numinous.