MY HOUSE

I will build my house out of tin lanterns,
thread them together, then light them up.
And the roof will hold heavy with the boards
from every boat, I've ever  boarded,
and you will hear the sea crash when it's done.
And the floor will be planked with epiphanies,
so we can walk tall and secure, and the
windowsills will be shaped by the seashells,
that I've found on every shore. And the
rooms will be filled with empty space, room for
things to come, whilst the walls will be littered
with pelican beaks and jarcaranda flowers,
to remind me of what I've done.  And the
garden will be turquoise, the grass dyed
and dead, and you will find me on a swing
made of silk-worms  and driftwood, resting
my leaden head.
 

THE MICROWAVE BLUES
The microwave caught me crying in the kitchen again.
It pretended not to notice at first, as most things do.
And what was worse, was that I looked for comfort
in television’s culinary cousin. But it stood, as stationary
as the old clocks fingers, when it’s idle anode heart
has dwindled at its job. So chair gave me a seat,
as my eyes pollocked my face with broken lines
of tear and mascara. Finally Microwave cracked
and said; ‘Why are you watering yourself’?
It’s voice as cut and anxious as the blenders.
I’m ok, I trickled, attempting to hide an oven of anger
inside. But in a black snap of crack I slapped the table,
who woke…  grunted and grumbled… then dozed off again,
dreaming of pine and yew…
I’m out of sorts I slurped as I restored wayward lips.
I’m due on for a demolition any day, and I must say
I think the tumble dryer’s attitude towards clothes is gratuitous.
I agree, said Microwave, but that is neither here nor there…

PATHS
The long dead dog in the road,
Archaic pots in old stone walls,
I nettle my way along a long trail,
Never taken by anyone. No advice.
No signs. I unroll a leather bound scroll,
Mapped it out, a long time ago.
Roll over in green, nettles and moss,
Round down the footpaths; lazy across.
Impossible hills, obvious attractions,
Gaudy perceptions, dire reactions.
An aviary of actions in flight,
The tall order of trees at night,
There are winds that will unsettle within;
Right directions, mapped, under the skin.
 

MY GIRL IN THE RIVER
A big fish with time,
a man with the charm of a whale.
an ocean of daffodils and clever words,
made two hearts set sail.
Does life…
rewind…  fast forward.
Stop.  Can you decide? Everything?
In the seconds it takes for
a hair to float and drop.
Droplets on my raincoat,
skin dry as ice.  My big fish
won’t ever let me ever dry out.
My girl in the river,
More lovely than every drop
of water
     combined. 
The only thing we had against us,
was the persistence of time.
“Time stops when you meet
the love of your life.”
A big fish with time,
a man with the charm of a whale.
An ocean of daffodils and clever words,
made two hearts set sail.