Still Running From The Breath Of Stars

The bed falls towards the centre of the earth

Beyond the roof’s reptilian back

There is something earnest

In the dust of stars

As if the night’s sparse rigour

could sustain your waning exhalation 

Until you were empty and it was full 

The rumbling descent of slowing cars

Occludes your ghosting breath

Lights an alien red

As if you breathed out

Another world


In dark obscured distance

Still running you breathed in

Bike Crash Under An Ancient Constellation

The night is  mostly walls and fences
we are small pieces of the sky
falling  through her corrugations 

Roaring the roar  of bicycle spokes
blurred towards the traffic’s restless cliff
lip split in defiance
streaking blood  skittish as reflectors

Thin-skinned soles, breaking, skate
grasp, let go, the road’s  grit crumbling affliction

A star around  the machine’s taut throat
hidden by  deceit’s accretions
of flaked lead paint, an oscillation
with that metronomic blur
as if  beset by wind-torn shrieks
wept meteor
a blinded giant flailed about

A guttered bite
halt  and leap
that Newtonian triangulation 
of arrows and arcs
argon blurred
a Pythagorean shout

A new sun rising  while the wheel
lazed in  radiations
devolves to froed spite
slowed as slowing  windswept pulses
a twice bitten lip

Your smile lost
pebble-skinned scowl
a constellation’s strange fixed warning
flagging pennants  and
careening misdemeanours 
a snake slewed track
the minotaur bars
bent in acquiescence
despite repose
bull’s broken neck
nevertheless defiant