the hope between

The hope between,
You’d think there was water in there,
A linear mote,
But there’s no soap and no bond,
Just a slip and a fold,
That shouts clean clear clouds of blue murder,
Where ever there’s time for it to fit in for a tune up,

The cage within,
Whispers come play with the pillowcase,
Fleety jam fest over the next bet you can’t hold,
There’s no gold,
Just milestones and dripping cold,

The window of pearl robes,
Walks in heebee jeebees,
Shining and fresh clipped,
Feeding skinny fish down the river,
Flex to flesh to fin to skin,
She’s dying to win your fervour,

The dance without,
Dies alone wandering,
No time for plans of distinction and strategy,
Fishing in the canyon of night,
Flashings no place for a flat lander,
Gotta get that curling warning,
But the angles just a little too high,


Skipping and sauntering,
Pure black martyr,
With the apple of eternity,
Golden stuttering,
Vacant killer of placation,
Can’t get through the door,
Caught in the future,
In poverty and ill health,
Still driven to the same well,

Bought and sold in the desert,
No way through the gauntlet vision quest,
7
Just a hammer and a burning touch,

Cathode teeth she flies hanging off the back street,
Closing fast I’m on the first heat,
Another chance on the desperate,
Just a queen tied up in sugar blindness,
Between resistant butterfly precipice,

Because it will turn dark all on its’ own,
And you’re the only one who will read it then,
Open all the windows and let the rumbling come through,
In pieces and past times and propositions,

Caught in the moon breeze,
Over the retributions flight,
Carrying me south, the moon bird,
Green wings and smooth,
I still believed in my innocence,
And I’d take it defenceless,
Splitting mad infected,

Because he hangs in there so patiently,
The wild card belonging,
Loose leafed resorted to exploration,
Picked up and dropped off,
Holes of artefacts contrived for conciliation,
Liberated consolation,
Diagrams of interrelatedness,
I breathe, she sleeps

was it a star that you heard?

Was it a star that you heard?
In the healing surrender, the one where we miss our fingerprints, and there is no pain,
In the mutual rain, as long as we agree;

The future boy is standing still, and we’ll keep him at a safe distance,
And agree we’re upon all the wiser, for on our master hints,

How far? How many beans?
I would call it,
A million stars,
And in between our hands,
There’s so far to go

A potato field, tipped on its’ side,
Hold it with a thimble, find the needles eye,

And if at last,
You need it to be for you alone, you will be forgiven,

One high heel baby clickin’ along,
So many plans four wheel, on the bottom of the ocean,

Was it a star that you need?
Ask yourself a question like, was it another life?
In an elevator?

In gesso glints I touch the armistice,
My baby still lets me insist,
Scratching on the surface,

Burning heads totem up,
Shedding the skin of the butchers son,

To know the night is to smell the night,
Safe enough to put a mask on and ride of into the wild,
Guarding the dream mirrors,

Win the anthem queen, become a genetic celebrity,
Tectonic code maker,
Truth in search of petals,

Did the sky hang from the stars?
The day by the hours?
Win a real live heart,
Under the door frame,
Amazon gone to the teeth,
Rattle bone satin thief,

But the smell of the rose still reaches,
in so many stories,
after the sun goes down,

and measured,
after I get the swing,
because there’s supposed to be,
someone in the band waves,

did you hear? Was it double straights?
Confetti mates in suffragette?
Find the big circuit,
All the time I was bleedin,
Solo half wise,
And the moon would take me the rest of the way there,
Eclipse box bang on the blue shield,
Eyes sinking into a fresh set of harbingers,
On the west side of the question about tensions around the nest,
I’m just as sexed, she calls me her friend,
I love this sense of a caffeinated coast,
A coat on the crawl, empty in the bell tower,
But the sound still reaches me,
The way this window swings,
Don’t give me over to easily
The rays just follow,
After the sun goes down,
Just far enough to make it through the night
Because traces of the weight,
Little chills under the hardware,
Rustling leaves and shivering birds,
The fourth movement of that peruvian shit,
Dog on the third planet forms in the wind,
Great mother crimson boulder,
Soft shoulder like fading stars,
And weakness in my death toll,
And in the shadow was everywhere I wanted to go,
Kicking empty bowls under the tiger jet, tiger eye,
No where home, conservation of fire, that burnt me down,
I just told her apoptosis and it don’t hurt anymore,
No where home, just a falling bomb,
And I just leaned into the lines,
A broken particle beam,
I got dizzy eyed and lost,
Found two digital pairs of pixies,
Locked into infinity,
Still rings of desire we didn’t know how to land,
But still showed us what it means,
Getting through the dream,
Auto tangerine, double sage, milder twinges,
When there’s rust in the cornfields,
I just motor ride the frozen lake,
A big community secret,
And on the other side of the fire, she would just listen,
And for 1% more she’s gets a sense of security,
A jet hand, three horses, an ink covered crescent moon,
I still hear the open field breathing,
The seasoned wire buried out past the county line,
No where home, I remember where I caught fire,
Quick knives in the night, out past the boundary line,
Rose up into the sky, couldn’t give up the night,
Out past the satellite for a moment in time,
Was just a tiny motion out of the notion of the wholeness,
And so it decided to sing a little song,
Chanel #9,
And out past the galleries you can still hear it tonight,
At least in the shadows extra force,
Soothing soothing voice,
Up to the moon I go,
My feet are lighter than the song of a loon,
Keep one square and one on the line,
The way I heard it, it was like ten thousand to one,
Drowning frog sign utopia,
Upended upon the eclipse,
Cripplers ticklers, fried sugar flakes,
Bones and teeth,
Seem just as vulnerable,

starting at two she sets the blues

Starting at two she gets the blues,
A lingering willow pool,

In a tear she boils the veil,
Just enough not show any wear,
But to get the colour through the air,
To get the busy dark pool fed

At her feet the four winds blow,
In layers of lace the four rivers flow
And in the weave she hides a bow,
My pockets are full of robes,
The sign of tomorrows extra fold
Story of the wheel and the well
When I’m told there is too much to hold,
and I feel the moulde,

In her hands the mirror holds another courier,
All strung together like beads of flashing eyes,
Glimmering through the wilderness of light and shadow,
In the colours I saw her hand
In the shadows I felt her touch
An angel in the puzzle of her glance,
What they seek and what the hide,

Walls and salvation,
Glue for young impressionables,
As they try to penetrate her meaning,
Justify their fortunes,
They want to confiscate her free form lazy shoreline bubbles and foam
Give I was a berry seed,
Buried in a wildflower breeze,
In a her midnight oasis,
Grey green silver blue,
Round of Saturdays all ended up together,
A timepiece with another rhythm,
In her voice she hides another song,

Steps in the river she leaves a sign
She says she’s shy but she’s a shaker,
That keeps me guessing where to find the next fault line
An even keel to the cathode eye madness
And I don’t look behind her,
Secret nymph needs a big screen,
Little taste of a big stream,
Traces of her sweet knees,
Living in a fading dream,
Open groves in the meadow,
Groove along a half truth,
For every time I was safe and pure,
Always such a long walk,
To the arched prism Sunday,
Satin changes, pass the contracts,
Every time she open her arms,
Steam behind my eyes,
As the sun goes down,
In Sunday peaches,

Along the Nile.

for nights

Black lines on the window
Run straight to my heart
Repository of doubt
I just can’t wait to open the box
I find a couple of nigels waiting with funny little smiles in the corners of their mouth and eyes,
Another song in her voice,
Quicksilver catches fire in the whisper behind the mist ,
Now I say she can sing a bit,
And all the times I thought I knew my computation,
I talked to the garbage man about my previous incarnations,
My pig skin blues, guarding my secrets,
I feed them double, burning on both ends,
A crystal bet on beetle profusion,
Porous reflections,
Total conspiracy,
Keep me in sevens,
Culprit of belonging,
Stars on scars,
Swing lines and high wires,
Rubber camoflauge,
For anchors out at sea,
Three snails in a garden silently stretching,
Another shadow side holds out against the hammering ocean,
Sand in my eyes, tells me I’m just another citadel out in the morning sun,

The thin house,
The way of the red wind drifting in the rafters I don’t care about the mis pronounciations
Of my cousins words,
Sometimes they start at the beginning, sometimes they start at the end,
Sometimes they wait in the,
Soma times,
Soma timesed in bed,
Somatized exchanged and fed,

Stains in the shadows,
Eating away at the diving board,
Broken hinges on a bad gasket,
I take long strides and get lost playing in the open fields,
Where I was born and bred,
I’m only hear,
For the heart ache,
Each little tear,
At midnight, shadow ends,
Here comes the rain,
The feeding of all seeds,
What a melody,
All the things she says to me,

A loop flood,
Sugar mama, I’m buried under the sea,
And pretty parking places drowned,
In the loss of the weight of my arms,
And their eyes,
Floating over my head,
Falling through holes in the map,
The inheritance of tramps,
Edges I don’t understand,
Falling through fire I can’t stand up,
Hollow stick and a loaded gun,
What I thought was a lifetime,
Was a blink of an eye,
The key score didn’t register,
Tomorrows’ tides out again already,

Quiet time for an evening crowd, whispers of a piano lounge,
Keys wave through coloured lights,
Time tested requisitions for trusted wings,
Weaves a Japanese trapezed windowpane
Works on the edges of
Closing circles
Take me away from the dust,
Loud and blurring,
Sang my flower,
If it waves, if it smiles,
And the room rearranging,
Pictures of the mouthing propositions
Trade off placations,
To engulf
Different precautions
Eyes silent still and sweet
Dancing in the flames
The thin blue flames,
To get a good grip on emptying drips of barely drawing begins the potential of positioning, all turn just not in my sign
So many sort of escalation sensulation
In the blooming intimation
Of a quester afraid to drift
A jester with one chance left
Tester afraind of the cost
So she brought me gift
Now the hourglass
Not afraid of the heat
Reaches in to the boundary less blue signal
Let it be your breathing room
Let your tune unwind
Out on the tiles
Just let your knife cut true

strange

Strange little infinity symbols, of ropes and odds and ends,
Clicking along in a cloak and a song,
A scarlet code,
They keep coming to me like birds and cats,
In the last little moment when I’m incomplete,
The last secret fold catcher bending them close enough to get to the spring time burial,
And other imitation calls of the yellow skeleton of curve balls,

They promised me an easy landing,
Then welcomed me with tar and feathers
With no explanation
Or any other walls

They pronounced me dead on arriving
I made up for it by playing four wheel up and a wrinkle of captured red fray,
Spark gelding they wouldn’t let me forget pregnancy and innocence
Might have been were there fences or pretenses
But the trade zoom in the boarding school and waiting rooms concealed dust and rules
Cornered me again
High windows sold for wind fuel
So I just loved the shoes,
‘cause I never had anything that felt so even

Found a jump start pivot with a knack for the shooting range,
Quantified my warranty expired
I had to take on an empty shell,
And ask for a handle,

Found trans nocturne and had to keep the trance forgetful
Covered in modified scales
Stung to the teeth
Strung with my crooked knees

Still didn’t know the high heeled hollow was part of the deal,
We played Russian roulette with a fishing net,
I could only imagine how she cried
When we found moon ‘aint round,
Had to soften flight to lick the electric true blue moon boundary
A tongue begging to please troubled glands in the dark,
Marked in haze
I never asked for this kind of commerce,
Holes, sand and snakes,
Take my hands for their own relief,

painful and

Painful separations and I just want to keep running
Can’t find my way back from the loaded gun,
Painful encounters and I just want to keep holding on,
Can’t find myself in the water fairy skullcup,

I feel trapped, I feel I’m standing on one leg,
and half my words are gone,
Chatter turned to falling stars,
Gravities freewheels keep erasing my corners
Keep bringing in all my insurgents
My insignia never dawns,
I climb on interpretations,
And I’m stranded out on the edge of a secret

Let me go let me fly let me sing,
Vaporize me in the tube train,
To the end of insesecurity
Is there another way to get through?
Can I find clean waters in this shaking obscenity?
In this right of the hunting ground, flight of hunger, risk of delight, height of incubating wonder in the distance of a deep sea bubble,

I’ve been captured by the evening
By the heavy weight satellite,
A place no one can see,
On a leash in the feathered breeze
Can’t touch the loose piece of fur frenzy
Buzzing through my sheets
Outcast on dark nets
Caught like a frightened seal,
In the sites of a guided missile of a random mad assassin,

Cradled in the chrysalis of a broken heart,
All alone in the melting point,
Salt conjured for the pleasure of escaping into another state,
Screams couldn’t reach past the breaking point,
Pledge of the forgotten chasm,
Scenes spreading and receding,
To get back to the message that was once held in the sleepy wonder of awakening,
In a battle of sweet din,
Breathing closer to the window,
Vaporize me with other voices
Pass me over other courses

Curses inside the flowing flight of birds,
The way the sky touches the wounded core through the wind,
Spilling time out of the scratched mirror
My hands just can’t hold onto the perimeter
All my distances spin in the compass,
Eardrums sound the alarm,
My breath like a desert squall
There’s no freedom from the shadow stuffer

easter

This web of Easter fractions,
My desperate suspicions,
Feverish dancing phantoms in the fields of agelessness,

(In the vacuum of cold pressed obliterations,)

This thicket of unformed words,
Informed by celestial spore tracers,
Markers of the quiet alarm,
I’m purified in all a test,
Towards the truth meter,

(Rules,)

The edges of café windows,

In hanging gardens,
Bright with promise,
I meet my saviour again,

(Pick and fly,)

In golden aerial rooms,
I’m reborn the snake waiting in the sirens pool,
The bait, the tension, the flight capsule, the ambitious miracle,

Tempered by a silhouette exposure,
On the wrong side of the cave wall,
Looking for the direction that narrow band of a smile points towards,

In the dilation of the dust blown catastrophe,
My eyes resurfaced,
I lost my protection,
(My favourite lie,)
Prophesy blues,
The radiance of a distant star,

Someone on the edge of liminal heat,
Far down the street,
She hides her feet,
She sleeps in the birthday cake,
Her wishes still get to me,

In empty pools,
In love with nights final curtain,
Swallowed by all the names of the lost,
Destabilizing premonitions,
Reassemble themselves on the other side of the sky,
In the hands with little white gloves,
My eyes will never forget, how those anatomies work,
Someone of softer exposure,
Can get through the garden wall,
Deep melting never spread so far,
Through the boundless pool,
Their estimations ripple,

Two layers I must touch,
One of surfaces, one of between,
A secret isle,
Signature birds,
My eyes restored,
Seeing out through the eyes of those I love,
(and those I lost)