Yeh… well, you know I am such a damned romantic! Hope and mebbe lust and some mismatched socks that are still really warm?Poetry?
Tired like the edge of the night like three fingers of an early dawn
scratching in the wet opacity dirt.
Sitting on my lap like a warm stone on a cold day.
Given to me wrapped up in sweat and cotton and so real
so real so
something new entirely?
History swarming up in both brains and clotting us
sweet with exhalation (transfigured water-struck and full full full.)
Each one a curled ankle an epic plan a throbbing
psychosis a gift a laughing sickness a gaseous truth.
A ride home in the night when it’s too late
for trains or pity
and neither of us needs it anymore
Anyway and for once that’s okay,
Sleep late into the warm night.
Sleep warm into the soft night.
Loss like breath for each of us,
but I’m smelling skin
1 m x 82 cm
Pastels on colourfix pastel paper