bathtub
at the moment spending any time away from writing feels like sneaking away behind the back of a lover - guilty, unsettling, mind always half there. i love what's happening between the pages though. things like this :
bathtub
i call you little fish
pull you from the front door to the tiny bathroom splashed with tulips in glasses,
fresh ones under the mirror and the wilted dozing over the filling tub
night falls as we sink groaning into hot water
i look at you and i disappear
You hold my hand as it shakes a little,
Hovering in front of me like a blind man’s feelers
We’re walking into land I don’t know
Cause love has never
Held my hand for that long before
secret god
i have not even finished writing one book and already i dream of the next - an exploration of the er*tic mysteries...
secret god
i arrive wrapped in night
like a bearer of secret news
peel off layers of wool while you welcome me with electric relish
“i’ve been waiting for you for hours…”
poisons in our bloodstreams
just a touch,
red stain on my lips and bright lights
and six flights of steps -
i glide in on a spray of bubbles
hang the icy night on a hook
and nestle into your arms,
Body turning mellow as elderflower wine…
cuckoo poem
it started with a shy romeo crow that day,
who dropped on my balcony
and peeked at me over its shoulder.
then
i go to the shops for no reason
like i never do
and the street cleaners rev their deafening engine
a few footsteps from where
i find you -
eyes bright and body supple,
warm and
freshly dead,
wings still spread open
in a relaxed embrace of sky
cuckoo prose
i watch a crow on my balcony like a shy romeo, squinting at me nervously over its shoulder. i leave to grab a couple of groceries, then as i hear the deafening roar of the street-cleaning truck, my eyes fall on a beautiful, dead bird. So fresh. Cuckoo, I later learn - they’re shy, so i know its song but not its shape.
immediately i know that this being, that was not there and not dead 1min ago, has literally appeared on my doorstep for me to take its wings and tail. for a moment i’m paralyzed at this. my many plans for the morning come crashing down in the telltale rhythm of death taking over the tempo - interrupt, pause, stretch…
a day of mermaids
you have this way of saying things sometimes -
you steal away time’s breath
with the caress of truth in your words
“ the world would be better
if people did
less. “
questions (part 2) Devil’s advocate
You watch me rant
With a knowing smile
and ever the devil’s advocate,
You remind me
“But you also tell me :
I’m not going anywhere.”