Underwater filming

Deep blue underwater filming

the final cut 

the final act

on videotape

I barely hold on, and

break into tears 

it's the

pressure, pain. sand 

on the ocean floor 

that gets me

the shifting 
bodies

editing the final scream

then it cuts to black


you shout pack up

and I wake up

on a different shore.

Men's locker room

A haze of steam

allows me 

to be discreet

and so like bluish vapour

and pungent sap

I'm everywhere 

not even woodsy 

or rain-kissed or exotic

I am working sweat 

dripping 

in dampness to return to you 

the drops

in your sweet

soft eyes 

Voices from the surreal

Voices from the surreal


bringing echoes of your internal war
s

and news 

that we are losing 

day after day

start taking possession

within me, of me. 

maybe


if your earnest words

can dissolve these nerves

I will grant you the wings


to answer the prayer

I read in your eyes

the first time we met

smoke rose 

between your fingers


casual prayers 

you didn’t utter.

I saw sparks (1986)

Sparks between you 

and a pretty boy


in the dark

I stepped out and stared

at my feet

in the park

your crush lighting

up the night 

and me lighting up 

like I can’t cope 


with the puppy dog hope 

in your eyes

I fled that cage 

that I was starting to weld for myself.

Sunday

When I wake 

I'll feel for you

under the pillow

arms across

the sheets

and miss you

close my eyes again

around a dream

press my lips

to swallow your name

and let sugar cravings 

kickstart my day. 

Trace Paper

When the ink

has dried up 

and all fluid 

from your motion

is visible 

as residue 

left behind on trace paper

bleak or weak

with intention 

it's time

to remember that

all which is left

is still 

the purest essence

of you 

At night

At night

at night you're not here

at night

at night you're not here 

any more than day

at night

you're not here

no more

do I dream

no more

do I wake 

any more

at night 

I am a wolf

I am a wolf

watch me at night

before I leave your bed

trading your warmth 

to wander the streets

and leave my scent on fences


watching over strangers

in darkness

catching some sleep

in open air

and stealth

It will be days before 

I scratch at your door
 again

spit-cleaned 

white fur

and shiny eyes

ready

for the new moon.

The book I wrote

You were a storyteller 

lurking on my pages

you told me your immigrant story

running through your veins 

in my language

and into my blood

until I knew it by heart

in my inner verses and

it became mine

you became

and i was

(yours)

A taste of morning

Dried on my lips

last nights kiss

on a pillow at rest

tracing

the hollow of his chest

the morning air

now empty of him

but drifting freely

with his scent

the fragrance that showers me

awake

as the day begins.

Stuck on you

You want to be like glue

stuck and

warm, creasing my body

removable, but not easily

If I tear at you, it will hurt

It turns out I am plaster

even closer to you

I am imprinted

you can't peel me away 

we are not (thank heavens) like sticky tape 

clingy for a little while

but easily brushed off

I know we don't want to be metaphors

but the truth is

we like to feel stuck

like adverbs

and more than close.

Four Seasons

There are two things 

I forgot to tell you

the first had to do 

with the biting chill of winter

and the second with the way

the colours run in spring

I forgot to tell you

because I only knew you

in the summer and the fall

the time of long days and pretty sunsets.

The Mango Tree

The fruit is ripe

dust collects on the leaves

like sweat 

upon the squalid summer stream

where the tree 

stands,

shade has fallen

on the road

the light is clear 

and distant

the last anguish

comes

when the birds flee.

The Full Moon

The night of parting, now

rests on

your silent lips

the tedious love

we indulged

under a treacherous moon

when a dark and heavy, thunder

scattered brush

on the road.

My Ultrabook Detritus Part 1

Medium : Paper on Ultrabook

The Temple Road

Under hurried

footfalls

a limpid road 

runs metallic blue, and

comes upon a large temple

the sound of

bells and chanting 

fill the summer evening, where 

softly rest 

blades of grass.

The last burst of shade

I stand

exposed

in your dying waves,

you smile 

endearingly 

I can only hold my breath

and taste your sweetness

Evening

you consume me

with the vanishing sun

in a last burst of shade.

Morning star

Hiding beneath the earth

morning reclaims itself 

in a golden blaze

the orange of summer inflames

the branches start crackling

across the neighbourhood

the dogs

start to bark, day has broken 

between sleep and vigil

dream was like a cloud