a reprise of emotions

a little recapitulation

of love



and of cadence


of memories
of speaking


the things that are hardest
to find


to separate




to write out




and clear your mind


of weasel-words, fibs, and exaggerations

-reality stripped to its knees-




a simplicity



an act of retaining

the least striking moments


of life's little minuet.

once
I knew I loved you

because of the way
you smelt my hair


I knew

I had found in you

a million ways of touching bliss



a thousand clichés
our every kiss
every stroke
our every sunday morning

(and every lie)




you say

how beautiful -

but I'm not there
to listen



the ground beneath me
turns into

mud

and as I kick and shout and spit

you're still looking for the flowers


you were playing a losing game

time to go back inside

and stop giving shit
back to the world


it's time to wipe the dust
off your face; grab

responsibility by its hair
and claim it yours


and as you cry

and stab yourself with blame

try and crack a smile
and know the burden of

hating


the man
you once loved.

unfamiliar ceilings -

the sky


openings for a soul


must we know that we will die?



to force the sea grow still

in the prospect of saving
one wave

(a trough without
a crest)





all perishes









and death comes in the form of
tears

in the eyes of the people who love you



(along deserted roads

life never lies
never really hides from you

the necessity of loss)

a familiar face

a mother
(a face)

on a stick

on a pedestal
on a pedestal


on a pedestal


gazing at the brightness with which the future


comes

(it comes from your 2 o'clock)




wistful, breezy - you don't even know it's there
but she insists, still looks for it - oh!

there's more
future





marble

it doesn't twist

running to the beach in the still of the night
(half-stirred thoughts and


a lonesomeness

to remain)


frail at the strength of tears

to be swept away
by the smallest wind



and then

moments, when -


the realisation of the reality of things
gradually renders you

meaningless







to feel the burden of a birdsong
you no longer enjoy


and cry


cry
for the loss of


love


(scream is
non-vibrato)


ce n'est pas jolie -

c'est beau.

bread
about a million croissants (give or take a thousand)
some cheese ploughman's sandwiches
some BLT sandwiches
a few falafel and houmous tortilla wraps
sushi
more sushi
soup
bananas
a Turk
apples
potatoes
a chocolate cake
two sweet peppers
a rotten egg
three pizzas
bread
bread (again)
more bread
bread?
yes
lots of it
a book
another one
a tramp
another one
chicken curry
organic pears
greek yoghurt
a dead body
ice-cream (I wish..)
Italy
roast pork loin
stilton cheese
pasta
did I mention bread?
muffins
bread
donuts
an unbelievable amount of donuts
bread
cookies
soup
bread
bread?
sushi
yeah, more sushi
toilet paper (used) (I touched it) (ew)
fish
duck breast fillets
flowers
and a poem

the plausibility of failing to grasp
the importance of the smallest
divisions
of one's life,

an intimacy with one's state of denial
of the pleasures of dance

eluding the sheer truth
of things -
no one is talented
in living