The Aroma of Sadness


I look at the wrong things and cry
But tears are taboo, aren’t they?
Like used razors or sandpaper towel
Or the last page of a living novel
And yet I do, not because I cannot avert my eyes
From the still beauty
Subdued by time
But that I would witness
In those aching final ages
Filled with long and random sunlight
My disappearance
Into wet satin
And gossamer ash
Of original nothingness

If fire could speak of pain
And water too of how it feels to suffocate
Beneath the weight
Of drowning men
They would
But flesh cannot heal the sky
Nor blood fill a river dry
For all thoughtful fantasies are unwritten tragedies
Beginning at birth
And only deepening when you die

So I weep for the ocean of sadness
Clenched inside my throat
I pray for the lambs sheltered
In the veins of my battered boat
And I yearn to leave the answers
With my back against the dying day
To rest amidst the sleeping shepherds
For I have nothing more to say…

The Soft World Shenanigans

Dry roads humping shredded towns
Ghostlicked with cactus eyes quietly watching
Deeper dreams
For answers within answers
For silence within screams
I see, I see
Footsteps upon gravel
And red lips on ice
Dissolve
In purple chimney smoke,
Behind the farts of dust- rimmed truck,
Where the grey haired goats grazing in saltpits wonder
Why the fairies don’t give a fuck
Clippety clop, clippety clop
Horse hooves on silent sand
Burnt toast, stale butter, wooden knife in my hand
I see, I see
Tears and bright ties
Choking velvet throats
Those colouring the white lies
Like spit on anchored boats
Bell jars in cotton
Woodpecker in denim
Breathing tinfoil fantasies
Of midnight mind raining, whispers upon paper:
‘Wheatfields underwater
Ether in eclair
Cornflakes made of daylight
And tulips in dark hair’
I see, I see
Last thoughts of dying beasts
Merge with me
So that I roar and I bleat
Being eaten as I eat
My own war-torn monkhood
My altarboy retreat
So I see, So I see
Dry roads humping shredded towns
Ghostlicked with cactus eyes quietly watching
Deeper dreams
For answers within answers
For silence within screams

Fresco

And they said they wanted to write
My poems for me
And chew my black tobacco
And drink my honey tea
But friend O my friend
My words are mine alone
Though yours may taste much sweeter
Their seeds to me are as stone
So leave me be, let me see
The world with my bit of error
And write with a trembling hand
All that I feel of terror
And be true as a single-faced coin
And roll in a scentless sea
And come as a corpse on the other side
Dead and yet so free…