Through Glass, Brightly

Inelegant metaphors 

strained at the bit


From inside

an insect gnawing

exulted

when the mandibles broke the skin


Excavated

that disgruntled earth

a machine that 

mouthfuls spat


Curled to a walnut shape

heat escapes 

through scalp and anus

as if we were

some alien

and 

obtuse kind of planet



The sites

of old injuries buckle first

bicycle crash, careless menagerie

a slight body weight 

elastic in collision

where once you flew

cleats and laurels

over the minotaur

a monster gnawing

at your thumb and wrist 

the crabbing slew

gravity’s sidelong spill

an arced trajectory

the stoic, downturned face

a theatre of cheap betrayals

enmeshed, the jackboot heart

where the andiron slipped

an upstart fire lick

the doorway guillotining

in the inadvertent pneumatic hiss

dull magnetic eye

through the safety glass

as if the web and constellation 

of all things, in the enfilade of your dismay

so easily fell apart


Pulled at the thread

 

A red crochet like love around your wrists

Circumnavigation

The red earth graze

on your chin

makes your tilted face

round like the world


An iceberg tooth

incites my lip

as if I were set adrift

colliding, capsized, lost

(tethered nevertheless)

in your unforgiving latitudes 


Brow cool

and fever dry

as any 

brazen templed sunset


 I suppose I must be the yellow dog moon

with my lopsided grin

bridled on a half-mouthed horizon

changing my mind

(and back again)

a creep closer and dark

with each circumnavigation 


Still

when you gently

bite my face

I start to die again

When I Was A Dog

Hungering
For the reassurance of your face
Jaw thrust forward, a monstering
Marionetted palsy
Of strings and pinions
Inexpertly manipulated
I met you once
In another world
Ate a stale biscuit
Threw it up again
The sky in soot and butter
Curlicues and approbations
When I was a dog, for a while
Glass house, all lies, no windows
Barked at the moon
At her silver mockery 
Barked again, in the dark 
When she was gone
Stars like tears 
The poet said
But I was just a dog
Alone and
Not done howling

From the isthmus of my eye

The wound is sunset
      volcanic glass


           the sea


       between the cradle


      in the lee
              
    a swell
stretched in a glimpsed hiatus


The cigarette burn you left
                 still brightly watching


         from the harbour
of my chest


A ship with nowhere
but this destination 


You said sorry, how you slumped
burnt copper dreaming slept
the way old lighthouses do


The fabric holing
with that mesmer’s grace


Spilling ash and flickered thoughts
the glare clenched in the spasm of your fist
gone wave break lax


Afterwards
     for salve a sting, the glassy shine
        of long past knotted healing


 The grain of sand
    in the isthmus of your eye
  all that remains


Watchful
    in a different glass
(still wide awake)


Of the beach I dreamed

Cotard

I thought I saw 
In the dulled cement
Of your sink
The reflected ire
Of death’s autumn moon
The fading red
Of haloed leaves, and last summer’s fires
As if the light
Had slowed to a dirge
But, your windows were opaque
Rippled glass, an upraised sea
The spilled chalk of erosion’s residues
Just me, and a hand-sized moth
Tenaciously still, against a drunken tide
Knowing, I am almost dead
While you disdain
Our silent worshipping 

Your cicada heart

You are the silk
Of the daybreak sky


The night’s bruise fading


Summer is skintight 


The ceded shape
See-through and splitting


Watchful with
The shells of yesterday’s eyes


The husk of armoured life
No longer needed


Stretched autumn loose 


You ask, looking up
To see what I see
What is there left in the empty blue?


I feel the breath of wings


We drift far apart


As fast approaching winter afternoons

Quite mad, Kate

Have thoughts like a dog
Pat and scold them
Until they behave
With that desperate, Pavlovian drool


There is no news today
Just stray cats and poetry
And the crisp meringue
Of clouds


If I wilt in the disdain
Of your withering heights
Perhaps you will forgive
My awful pun, bleak and mad
As it is, with thwarted love


A bird will steal your voice
If you let it


Nevertheless, a hand full of crumbs