Outgoing thought

spring heels into the machine

the lean of incandesence    

the tadpoles are growing tails

in the mesh of pond

pine cones open in pockets

racks of slaked lime cloud

like dustly pillows

glittering jackdaws make nests in stone

towers

the stars lie down on the eyelids of night

hand blur of words

the ink hisses across the page

I see the blotch of sun on the outscape

of a painting in the flow

of sprouting foilage of colours

bright

born by wind

into static certitude

pencil sketching the shorelines

dream splinter back

and gnaw into the paw of day 

above scallops of sky

birds tuck feathers into the leaf edge

of dusk

eyes lodged in some illusion

the unwound clock

the labouring of words

carried on the hod of the tongue

the winding sheen of a poem

lemon tree candle flames

kisses on the bridge at Avignon

the judder of our love

the mist that snares

the loneliness of the heart.