Standing at the brink

in off-brand corduroy, dyed wool

picking apart the sunbeams

with your one hand slowly

closing.

The funicular sings silent

the third curve of dust-white

aggregate is steeper still

and behind you lies

the vast bowl of swallowed

time, the shattered stopwatch

shards hanging loosely

quivering swords

over ripped Polaroid.

You drop the ...

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Afterwards you came to me

and asked

'Why did you slow down

before the end?'

I had not realised

I had

The blue glass sky

bled us sweat-dry

and lurking

in the corner

always the eyes

the eyes

Inside all was madness

and crushed teal ice

for all of us

my mind's stalled

back in time

for what?

I could not shed

the cloak of air

I'd...

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Hate is for the jilted,

no-go refunds

and markets saturated with remembrance.

I'd like to pick tulips

and prise up weekends for play,

we'll scream

down corridors and

is that not enough?

Dreading penance I don't want

rain days, just candles

and cars, the road

and space

to dream and walk.

When I fall too far

you call me back

and I'll open the le...

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Full moon wreathed in cloud

like black pepper smudged on white

ghostly negative.

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1981, the year a blue stencil,

verso, gloss off-white,

unstuck blu-tacked, loose framed,

sun-curled image

your grin and your cow-lick,

and causal wear,

your ghost in my machine.

A bawling, squall, curtains

of hail and rain hang outside,

ladder, paint, spots and tans

and frayed carpet,

the dark, shaggy corner swamp,

where I found you, sideways-stacked,

cracked...

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