may 2019

                           (i)

...and then come these raw idiosyncrasies

that transform friends into monoliths

strange, twisted methuselahs

who spin the earth between their thumbs

who mould their own stools into dogma

their wild, spidered faces mocking oblivion

calling out ‘come closer! come closer!

but do not touch! we are too old to die!

we offer addiction to not only the moon

but to diatribes, wraiths, to the eternal light

to any conceivable thing you want!

you will forget you even had a memory!’

unsure, my fingers rub the sand grains

in the corners of my pocket

and I wonder if the part I have played

has always been this transformation

of me as a liar into an even better liar

a monolith just as raw, just as mocking

as those who call out ‘come closer! come closer!’

as they plummet from the edge of the world...

                      (ii)

...this page is blind, it feels nothing

it touches hope yet hears only the flow of water

it is the stone in my head

the logic which forces stars

to cry as they burn

it is a crime

a darkness that has only ever wrestled with darkness

a page even blind to itself

this vast zero that is revelation

where, the truth is, truth is arbitrary

and yet here we are

again threading beads

again chained to the inky thief

my veins’ cold anaesthetic

where the sound of flowing water

is the crime of writing blind pages

that cry as they burn

that pull down these blackened stars

to ornament meaning

to find and complete the zeros in my head...

                               (iii)

...let us meet high above the gleaming cities

out where the stars’ breath can cool my body

where the views are so vast

they can swallow all of life

and let’s take with us our love

and release it high over the shimmering glass

as you find yourself in me

and I in you

pretending it is we two

who have tamed the nations and the supernations

but the multitudes, the crowds far below the glass

do they even know we are out here

yes their eyes shine, yes their faces glow

but this light is not theirs

it comes from some deep gut in the earth

where charlatans and liars crawl

searching for scraps of transcendence

it is a place where the shadows are so vast

no-one can see the unfolding pietà

spread out and terrifying

beneath our black wings...