Poetry

Riding it Out (2024)

Four cats at my window - four horsemen
Baying reminders: “Crackers fall if you let them.”
Yes, like how snakes would dance
If only we’d leave the doors open,
And horses run wild if only we’d crash them…

Par for the course, I drew a bet on the perfect arch
Again had my pencil prized to the perfect pupil.
All those silver cups with which to build armour.
Air so strong it knocked all the books over.

And all the observant birds (annoyingly)
Anointed and annotated melodically,
In twos, twos of two, and fours of two,
While the ravenous ghosts of couplet foxes
Sniffed out a trail through blown down fences
To fuck noisily on my barren doorstep.

Eventually another spring sprouted, another leaf grew
Each forgotten notation blotted back into view -
Hummed into bloom the perfect recipe,
Four pillars for this perfect dark moon
Hawthorn, nectar, just the right amount of salt
And no cheaty-pants - all four corners not cut.

You see, no amount of pink soup would ever fill
A bowl with a leak at the root.

I can say this now, seated as the King of Cups,
The heaven-sent foxes who once ran amuck
Somehow schooled my unseasoned cooks,
And all the perfectly folded paper cuts
Flown into the silver armour-turned-tureen -
Those rigorous blessings made seamless
Safe space for liquid allegory.

I’m sure I’ve lost you to the knighting
Slayed by your own glistening blade,
And while I might still nurse hungry foxes,
Dance with unconstricted snakes,
I send prayers of wisdom when choosing horses
For perfect arches walk away.

_____________________

Forgiveness (2024)

Blink. It's not too early or late.
Time is not our organ to grind.
Step your squeaky-clean slippers into the wet soil
And tilt your shame-laden lashes to the dawn moon.

Breathe. Give life to the bare bones of this leaf of faith.
Let mistaken incantations tumble down your legs
As you sing again into the negative space.

Listen. Borrow an attuned ear.
On this two-degree breeze we whisper wisdoms
Bloomed from your own quiet heart.

Remember. Thank those whose healing hands
You could only use to punish yourself.
Be ready to accept what you really need.

_____________________

_____________________

Tyersal Pebbledash Garage Echo (2007)


key my chords with your chords
ballgame in the cold sines
in concrete dawn dark dance
ache a hole, twist a line
snake my words through tall grass
warp your songs around me
makeshift den our hard house
blanket beats our grazed knees

_____________________

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Ceramic