Maiden Flight in a Lazy Afternoon

Paper clouds in the autumn sky

hang still in self denial.

Colour pencil dragon

on the little desk

gazes out of the window for some paper shower,

 

as the haughty wind rides into town,

lifting skirts, tangling hair.

And brings with him

merry vacationers to my lawn;

dry leaves, twigs and paper flowers.

 

Driven by a tranquil trust, I sit,

cutting and folding into shapely plume;

scribbled, hashed papers,

lined with blanks

for my maiden flight in this rusty afternoon.

…

In Captivity

Rooftop dreams have shiny edges

they dance with the wind and fly.

Fugitive dreams, they love their life

as I think I love mine.

Though I am forever

like the wise feathers, left on streets,

parked cars and grassy fields;

Like the naive pebble

never thrown too high

and the raindrops rushing down,

in captivity of gravity.

 

Wouldn’t mind the cats

having the leftover lies.

The chilled pint is what

my mind is really pinned to.

Little golden bubbles naked

rising up and huddling to the froth.

They share the revelation of absolute anarchy.

For they have discovered the

The mystic science

of getting away with jeering at

the captivity of gravity.

…

Anticipation through Memories

To move the many miles that cling

to the sojourn through that windy time,

paved in mariegold, a halo burned street,

a limping heart still walks by.

Smoke escaped into the winter sun

as the coffee cooled under vanished curls.

Two voices basked in a mellowed chime

in the labyrinth of a weathered year.

What remains of that wooden chair?

What paint is the seat now in?

Who knows what that night had brought.

Who knows what this night is taking.

A defunct streetlight comes to life

to show a way still there is.

A way down south, it’s sunny no doubt

a way away to unkempt bliss.

…

Plainness and vice

Plain white mediocrity,

jammed roads and shedding electricity

that my Father let my people testify.

Radiation and abnegation,

black fumes and drowning cities.

Comedy in sarcasm, action in crime,

Bespectacled eyes prying for clear blue skies

that my Father let my people testify.

Sunburned love and packbruised backs

quench your thirst from the star-striped racks.

Pyramid on shoulders, twisting knees and sinking heels,

Run fast lest you get under speeding wheels.

Heaps of flies in the box that runs,

sell yourself and blame those who sell guns.

Show your cards and wonder why,

that my Father let my people testify.