the siren lured the manticore out of his suit

stuffed to the shingles with fluff and circumstance
winter thoughts moved faster with the shivering
longer nights open a Faberge egg
shadows doing the Charleston seep from the closet

frayed cuffs shuffling the sawdust
smoke and ale flowing like serpents
metaphors gagging the mind of the poet
just out at the pub for a rollick

she opened her sheltered wizened eyes
he took her and they morphed
no light penetrated nor chants nor clouds
it was a beginning

bookworm love

that feeling
breathlessly
holding the corner of the page,
reading as fast as you can
because you can’t wait
to turn the page
to see what’s next

bus depot

sweet diesel coats the tongue
sliding home in crusty cloth seats
air brakes a melodious lullaby

shabby coats with cigarette burns
flickering fluorescent light
coffee stained flimsy paper ticket to freedom
sloppy kisses, tears of discomfort

cycle

dawn:
there’s indeed shame in the wanting
though it seems just beyond me
baser instincts take hold
thrash me like a shark with prey
it’s my fault really
looking for absolution
on an idiots playground

dusk:
if I could just remember how I got here
I found something buried
am still dusting it off
whether it’s diamond or obsidian
it’s mine, for me
I’m very tempted to leave it buried
or at least carry the filthy burden
in my pocket

an aura

starburst seasons
aural tangents splayed
listen with your body
there are no holes to fall into
just spaces to rest
delivered messages
with unlocked pinions
crystal dissonance
laborious deciphering
without ruminating
fresh breezes float by
too soon it’s all gone
enclosed again in silence