Could that have possibly been us now forgotten most probably but theneven nowstill in the frame ?of the photo perfectframed which now shows us in our nakedgrasping handsreached to each othersbeating pulsing

is that enough Life for you ?

forgetting that we werewaiting to dieeven wanting tobe somewhere elsecould that possibly have beenusthe subject of evena poem that might be lostin apocalypse or ice ageglobal warminginconsiderate selfdestroyed people all overeven on The earthseems to smallor eventoo largessic erahumanstuck in skinbut focussed right througheach other and onwards to snatch the infinitewandering sprawly forms in of lifefrom the god who is

All.

tv chaos

melts warm and sticky

into the private messages

I leave

for my self

per me ate all

it could

like a language taught to

fish destined

to be human

like a language which spreads

like viral marsh

mellow to the soul

but green lush lawn

savannah spread world

which melts

the visual field

to sea

i am a bitattracted to shorter forms ofwriting or even music with its ideas stripped of wordthat could only ever leave onereachlessbut grasping at pausethe cause of allwill be revealed whenit no longer matters

very much if at all

unending

is the strength of it

as liquid as the sea

the magic of the Tragical

can it other be

is nothing short of Unmiracle

from first we mouth our breath

and yet beyond the pinnacle

we only see what's left

when dearest change of

All begins

and yet we call it theft

when ever is discussed

by children

it is usually

made to when

for now

cannot be grasped

right now

for ever

leave well enough

the lonely child

alone

made

for ever

is its grasp

is all

i composed a love poembut it was far too syrupy for academia i composed a clever quatrainebut it lacked soul and elanfor the Common readerer

and so

I wrote nothing

and it was read by everyone All through

remedieshe thought were neededbut really all could be repairedwith a more liquidshiny focusof the saved forestpreserved in amberof the national parkof his last dreamwhere no evidencebased falls and no eucalypt greygreen aussie grasps the nettle on his palms like Sunday night sighs sad dreams amongst your creaking soul they hurt too much to tell

He

remonstrated with

huge pink hands

the size of Roman cloud

which might have been

expressive

on another world

if only he had something

to express

but bigness

but know

he did not

so snored he

clinging to thundersin

her dream

the EXAct same size

of All

he says he is writing the great australian novel.but she says it is too late.he says he is composing a significant neo post modern plu perfect late romantic piece of music.but she says it is f a r too late. he says he is going to bed.she says

that it is too early

she says she is writing a poemhe says why and but she says to express things that don't get said he says like whatand she says like if you ask a question but don'tuse a question markand thereforesometimes i think i am her

without a question withall

but then

a true poem will be just the right lengthand leave Allnothing unsaidor is it nothing unsaidand just the right length? in any case it will leave you feeling satisfied

or is that unsatisfied?

well just the right lengthif nothing else

or is that All just something else?

a true poem will be just the right lengthand leavenothing unsaid

or is it nothing unsaidand just the right length?

in any case it will leave you feeling satisfied

or is that unsatisfied?

well just the right lengthif nothing else

or is that something else?

a Truer even

desperate remedieshe thought were neededbutreallyall could be repairedwith a more liquidshiny focusof the saved forestpreserved in amberof the national parkof his last dreamwhere no evidencebased falls on the fate of the extinct tigerthat eats us All in dreams the size of blood

cafe is the same differentanswer me cafesare same different is here as home do i take your me everywhereis everywhere hereto me or not me

is that the question

since I have nothing

so am I

ready to give

my

All

in a pubnot that one in the hall way there is music in background and news in background and other people in background

what am i fore?

if not all

but perhaps so

that thing

to which we cling

chimes only once

the rest we chase

to again embrace

the ringing

in our strings

before the vibe

is lost

for all time

click go all laptops clickety click click

i am out of hereyet i need more of it

to function as a word that no one knows all

keyboard sighs yet have no say

never knowwarm worlds of grey or the wet afternoonsspent not even thinkingbut yet still growing towards a light of something yet obscure and only seen clearly through yet more rain

coherent moments are really cloudsso that we slip and fall into deep clarity with nothing to hold our us fully reasonable implore request sanityso falling is All the mind can see or really be

rapidly rapidly fast and rapidlywhirling forth unceasing flowgurgling churgling thingling wobblingcertainly certainly how thoughts growand hold the mind apart together

watch the eddying watch your figureever able to flinch the trigger happily zappily roll alonglife will find a whole new song until we find ourselves on the other side of the long slow gulf between us allserious as crimsonrising in a Rothko sky

long long agobefore i had first diedof unrequited thirst

there were many things to forgetto learnlike shoe laceuntying

at the end of a long lived life

my next life as an otter

however being no place for shoes let go the skill begin a Nother

from another pen you would pay more attentionand not just wander half hurried across these linesthat raise gaps that fall through gaps yet that is all we haveand all we need earn on earthto leave the earth

the gap we cannot leave the leaving yet We must inter must we I ?

he was a master of the short form

far too much so

he why not she a lass was reading the Idioton a quite fast trainmoving slowlytowardsanother 27 year old manof age foggy and with yellow steam in his eyesas if a gleaming wet prince of travelas he readuntil morninngwhich light could not be clearly seenunless commencing to readthe idiot on a trainof thought as in Russian comfortable with angstalthough very soon he would talk quicklyas if the other mancold through the slow nightmight slip away and losehis warmththus began the storyas you might have already expectedbecause that is the beginning of all trains of thought

just warmth seeking warmth yet so missingits connection

nothing much happened really he said in a phone but through text it becameso all so thing much more tendered to a life connectedlittle light in a big coldsubway enough to get home

if all was were accounted forthen what place is therefor the unaccountable zoo for untamed whorls' eddies half formedleaning inclinational danger mouse lion licked paws of pausewhere fresh can breatheloud and alone for now enter Train chased by a Bear

]

if all was were accounted forthen what place is therefor the unaccountableseeming repetition of the same verse

perhaps even a zoo licked paws of clawsfresh mint can holdthe incipience of weather in the airbut that lion knows it is not mintjust a clue never to expect nothingbecause the smell of freshis life itself unto allbars whippedyet Lion leaps out of a page and onto youralways half finished untamed what exactly ?

if i tell you what i am thinking you will not be able to stop yourself from seeing only its me the things unbound by what i left out

for fear of burning toast in my little kitchen hiawatha crimson mind silly little thing of it

But

if

I slow it down

and don't tell

all -

dissemble my unprotected soul

until you see its knot

and cannot guess

at what

I am

about

strangely then

you will want

to know me

and probably

will

ask for more

if only

then

if only then werethings said but no thing would be changedand depth evadedunlike the massive depth of seabelow the surferswaiting wavea far white shoreto this belowing hover vast purplecollected speciesswimming lifeblood cellsmove glidingballet way way below the humansform on boardsto catch the moving spacethat moves the big topsea turvy cross belowwith changing all

but could everhave said or evengrasped all thatthenwithoutcrack thebelowspilledfilled and thrilled to brim skyvaultless as poemunformedbut All

never too late ? we wonderedlonely as a crowd-fundeddoomsday ship

always too latesaid AliceConservationConversationdeep in climate changeas summer snowunless change of heart restart

but then where would the escalator ? if kept a tree only

it was a time whose idea had come and far be it for herwhom knew nothis ownlines to learn for recitable income some old thing that sounded good at the timeas Big Benis only goodfor being Big Benbut nothing elsebesidescould give a fuckin a football factoryskinning airand selling it to kidsfor a prophet

fucking hell is something small at the bottom of a page not meant to be read but noted like blood in our veins to note but leave alone

The last syllableof recorded timewas a bad takeand so had to be re recorded

but was it still thenthe last ? andwhat wasShakespeare to weather on that particular day ? pink whitewash on a Cornwallcoasted whitesurf day ?can meaning possibly be all that elusive ? yes! said the redwhite cracker-jack and laughed his pocelain soul to crack. and that is allthat is owed to drugs.

Life isn't Everything you know

there are otherunbelievable souls

leapt out of something quite different to what you know to be you

even very slowlyand found music fitfor an opening ceremonyOlympic bonfirefor the veinglorious Lifelike it lit the whole thing uplike Creationlit the whole thing the Whole Thing

a bonfire of big bang theoriesblown reeling to Obliviata where all creatures wait their turnto begin aginin Finnegan'$ wakethe happy kinndomof Us All We are you know

quite More

a sarcophagus came by posttodayfull of Emiliesand otherunbelievable soulsBut then Charlie Ivesleapt out quite quite slowlyand found music fitfor an opening ceremonyand an Olympic bonfirefor the vanity of Lifelit the whole thing uplike Creationa bonfire of big bang theoryblown reeling to Oblivionwhere all creatures wait their turnto begin aginin Finnegan'$ wakethe happy kinndomof them All. but didn't I already say that somewhere else over a rainbow ?

long long agobefore i had first diedof thirst

there were many things to forgetto learnlike shoe laceuntyingat the end of a long long life so then I rewrote such triteon vegemiteit came out thusand here it is Shoes are very wearing out but lifeis not a such untiable thingas thatbut is yetof varying leatheras the shoe factoryhas no place for cobblersand will thus never produce a real Pinocchio.

I found an elephant !

in Australia she age 5 told me

but was not supposed to have

it

is meant to be marsupial

but elephant

it surely was

yet its tail was snappy

and it walked just like a pogus stickis

so they would not name it elephant

because that would not have rhymed

they named it Pogophant

and killed it till it bled

and all this a little child told me

as she was falling asleep

and let confusion go

a forgotten balloon

when her sweet warm long mind has died

I will remember that

if fluid

{almost strawberry

but more exotic ginger

were even more opungent

almost eucalypt ground

in pepperberry}

was breathed in

it was with fresh gills

given before evolution

knew anything at all

before any need of

Better

that Chuck Darwin

wanted Be

but

thrive did they All

though not

a parent ly

never mindshe said as if minding quite a lotnever mindi saidwas a good title for something or otherand that i might use it for a collection of little poems that i would possibly never finishbutnever mindalways something else adheres and replaces the planbut nevermindnever

never mindshe said as if minding quite a lotnever mindi saidwas a good title for something or otherand that i might use it for a collection of little poems that i would possibly never finishbutnever mindalways something else adheres and replaces the planbut nevermindnever

nothing much happened really he said to a phone in taxibut through

text it becameso much more because when he arrived homehe sewed it up into a neat little bowthing that cried for almost no known reason atall but yet it was born of the nothing little text that wasjust to realease her from her tube cold waitin LondonTown anony mouse for what is a Cityexcept to make us craveeach other's craveand make it sew

nothing venturedcauses painthoughts unthoughtwill swell again

yet

sewing seems a worthyaimwhen swelling timeinflicts such rain

as pregnant cloudstheir mountain seekAll commandmentsreach their piqueand leave behind what need for rhymejust gather upand feed them cloud

no higher aim no need a shroud

nothing venturedcauses painthoughts unthoughtwill swell again yetsewing seems a worthyaimwhen swelling timeinflicts such rainas pregnant cloudstheir mountain seekAll commandmentsreach their peakand leave behind what need for lime just gather up become them cloud

several animals

on this pl;anet

have the sort of f;ur

that yo;u neeed to touch

but yet

the so;rt of teeth

beyond belief

She tried to do a profit=loss

of Everything

unblinded by her heart

but when she tried to

reconcile

her balance proved quite jugular

and spurt

rapidly rapidly fast and gurgling rapidlywhirling forthlyflowly spuurgling churgling thingling wobbling eddying NorthPole Santa seek little child life will turn its other cheek

Eucalypt greygreen Straylia grasps the nettle on his palms but evenSo Sundaynight sighs sad dreams into our creaking soul hurt too much to tell

there is nothing at all

like anything else

although it sometimes seems

so

there is something like nothing else

as if that could

her voice alone

ever change words

her lingering eyes spoke

the same old night

could change All that

the same old night

yet each pain different

samer older night

through every strand

a different yearn

a different night

to silent suffer

anything else

the ways of pain are endless|

nothing change

always same new pain

like any unlike thing

to join the living

chain

but weight for post

a sarcophagus came by posttodayfull of Emiliesand otherunbelievable soulsBut then Charlie Ivesleapt outvery slowlyand found music fitfor an opening ceremonyand an Olympic bonfirefor the vanity of Lifelit the whole thing uplike Creationa bonfire of big bang theoryblown reeling to ObLiviAwhere all creatures wait a turnto begin aginin Finnegan'$ wakethe happy mousetrapof them All repeat until forgotten . . .

a sarcophagus came by toasttodayfull of Emmlingsand otherbelievable ghoulsBut then Charlie Spritezeleapt out cloudlyand found mules fitfor a fiddler blown reeling to Oblivionwhere all creatures wait their furto begin aginin JamesJoyce throng the celestial allnessof their song

the savage crowstill it gets its way with lawless birdsthat rarely playthey sit along the power linesand watch old actorsmull their wines the caw unwindsunravels painan awkward rhythmquenched in flamehovered headheightdrenched in rainroaring lion

chews its mane A

nother crow that sings its coreis he and shebefore the War.Once were cleanersnow its flawonce were diamondsadament what he saidto Eveso off she wentand mulltiplexedher races runbut rarely wonEve to Alicejust begun suchhumming means the World is One .

save no spare a thoughtfor thinkers: that breed of ultramarine swimming speciesthat know how to corral an inclinationand mount it like a canadian his moose not.

save no spare a thoughtfor thinkers: that breed of earthbound speciesthat know how to wormwood lust her garden rake to keep out sense and weeds

seven men began a wardid they ?so boats of paper historysayor will they crumple even more the caramelof civilization creamedand crushing guiltby front men only ? women and children innocentas splashblood wedgetail eagle but whocould everhold them to account ? far better best the seven forthe papered hisstree boatthe trampled ocean floor red bubbles streamingto the surewhose consciencereaches for the oar ?

sparkticles she called them All-heaven gigglyblonde girlwith green soulshe playedto my cupof darkgold coffeeheld in my black handsof leafyhumming pickerson a woody slope of volcanic ashflavouredin her filled-warm eyesfloating still to minemade me forget the needfor sugarin the bitterbite of cuban brewmade me thinkof you made me Me.

her hair

shinysoft and silkstream

his skin

every open pore and cell

and yet

for dessert

he ate only

skull still sticky with idiot ideas

half-baked unset

dished up for an insincere sacrifice to an

unfinished GoD

unfit for human consummation

yet still commended

her hair every strand

And then what Sun could resist

What moon

pull up

the struggling sea ?

"So . . ." they thought

Clear coherent moments

are really

clouds of the mind temporarily parted so that we slip and fall into deep

clarity with nothing to hold

our us bloatfully reasonable but instead implorerequest sanity so falling is all

the mind can see

or really be

Then they may say no need of

say

that the Essentials have become totally unaffordable

so we should buy the Luxuries

and enjoy them

the couch sleeps at midnight exhaling the dazeimpressions of various bums all unseated by moreimportant places to be

unseated by

because life is a series of unseatings

justwhen webecome comfortable lifeasserts its warpnwheft on ourbumsand kicksus allover

the damneduniverse of otherpossibility which we must rise

to meet.

The human cost is infinitenutshell boundin acorns jest going about thebusinessof beesand birds are different yet againthe infinite form of seedreminds me of a needto feed likejackals fresh from zoolocked up in something newin which to jungle gorge

instinct and i fly blind but know the smell of Home our sonar tuned to All

The hardest thing of allIs to set down in words

what will last forever

remains relevant to Allfor AllTime

and who would dare

write such a Thing

One would have to have the magnetic allenveloping confidenceof one's God

which is no Thing

but an eternal essencemade of the hardest thing that may endure yet iS All

Anyway and so

And so as it happened he was offered a chocolateNot so much offered as presentedBecause the giver of the chocolate well knew the worth of the offeringAnd even moreso the worth of the chocalatee to whom it was profferedIn fact that was the whole idea.In any caseHe ate itIt was dessicated apricot insideInfusing the whole tongue with picaresque qualitiesJust as it threatened to be too sweet a sharp subtle nudge of cinnamon and nutmeg and something else brought it backAnd if the cayenne threatened to disperse or explode and recoil that tongueThe crisp violet and orange sugar, with crystals of raspberry curtailed the lunge. It was just perfectly balanced And so much so that he knew after the first few seconds that it was no longer the Taste itself that was surroundingly disarming and effusing his soulNo he was slain not by even the texture or even admiration for the Craft of its creationBut by something so powerful as to clutch his whole beingWhich wasThe fullest succumbing to a sense of Trust in the creatorThat he could relinquish All grip of suspicion and let that trust trickle from tastebudThrough to every sinew and axon in his gooey potato self.

And so as it happened he was offered a chocolateNot so much offered as presentedBecause the giver of the chocolate well knew the worth of the offeringAnd even moreso the worth of the chocalatee to whom it was profferedIn fact that was the whole idea.In any caseHe ate itIt was dessicated apricot insideInfusing the whole tongue with picaresque qualitiesJust as it threatened to be too sweet a sharp subtle nudge of cinnamon and nutmeg and something else brought it backAnd if the cayenne threatened to disperse or explode and recoil that tongueThe crisp violet and orange sugar, with crystals of raspberry curtailed the thought.It was perfectly balancedAnd so much so, that he knew after the first few seconds, that was no longer the taste itself that was surroundingly disarming and effusing his soulNo he was slain not by even the texture or even admiration for the craft of its creationBut by something so powerful as to clutch his whole beingWhich wasThe fullest succumbing to a sense of Trust in the creatorThat he could relinquish his grip of suspicion and let that trust trickle from his mouthThrough to every muscle and cell in his makeupWhich then basked as a cat in the sunWith no other thought thanIt is Good and it is Mine.

And then.

I lost my cat. and I was sad. I may have been inconsolable. One year later another cat arrived on my doorstep. Was it even the same cat ? It looked that way except more lithe more affectionate more animated more seriously inent on me

what to think

and then I did

the Lord taketh and only then does he giveth

except better

Ask Job.

But it's hard to believe it so

Ask Ludwig.

it so is Faith

but you must not laugh.

Ask and it shall be

Ask not

and it shall not. No Ask not and it will evn more be

That is all ye need to know on Earth

and in All Time

anywhere

the jazz musicianswho seemed to beimprovisingwere notyou know?

they kept finding commaswhere all elsewent codaand stillto go

the music played itself to rounded chimeful sleepas one who had invented an ariel for a prosperTV

the less said

leaves the slow wooden boat

a drift

with which no need to row

There are little orange bits of glowing snow

set on a deathblack backdrop of melted heart

and without those twinks of glimmer

the black would shine

in empty never space

in empty multi time

thus spake

my physics teacher

whom I failed

time andd time again

and he was so pleased for me

that

He wrote many years later

that Physics was a subject never to be passed

and that I had learned well

never to understand it

and could thus

live

the soul being somethingthat is not really a thingneeds not revealingor reveringbutexpressingwould bethe thing fielded and returned over the stumpsrun out

time is now the thingnow is the endless timestruck dumblike the groaning beartongueless as the salmon bites backuntoits throatnot expecting thisyields stupefiedis timeto us

great groaning bear aloft will need to learn Marsupial ease

the ways of mind are many and yet its purpose won its way upstreamunlikely but one salmon sureto find its one swims blindfaithly

on

we are just that

If the waitress asked for better service

from her diners

and refused to tip

them with a smile

then

in return

they left a pile of heavy money

to assuage

their gilded need

to be

loved

or

at least to be

bowed unto

and so she made the most

of all who served

by staining all her smiles

in sigh

as if it were bye bye

there is no poemnot one creaking poemin the whole globe of spherical historythat holds to gripthe throttled forceof our gazeupon each othersgazethat spins the All as milky whey when first we notein finitemagnolia budsfalling to petalswill be again long after they actually are

there is only one painof which all else derivethe cells that do cryand which pull us alivesing only one themefrom dreams we wring dryand the ache and the stingof the miserable nightis riddled and thick withsoul sucking guiltfor those that we missthat we edged in abyss and that's where we stayalone with their ghostnaked on Earth awaiting our birth

the savage crowstill it gets its waythe lawless birdsthat rarely playthey sit along the power linesand watch old actorsmull their winesthe caw unwindsunravels painan awkward rhythmquenched in flamehovers headlightightdrenched in rain

another crow that sings its coreis he and shebefore the WarOnce were cleanersnow its flawonce were diamondsadament what he saidto Eveso off she wentand mulltiplexedher races runbut rarely wonEve to Alicejust begun until crows crawl Our race does it drawl

time is now the ring ofendless chimestruck dumbstockmarketedlike the glinting coin intongueless pocket teethswallowing its throatnot expecting thisyields stupefiedis timeto us wants morebut cannot have is Us

to begin the punctured endlesss page

again

such a sense of entitlement

yet why on AllEarthexpect a poemhow dare you call it that

on Earth

call it something more small like a smudge on a Universe soon to see its infinite fellow kind but all different to it and facing away no matter where

and so to bed

she said

to see what dreams

its way

out

and well it turned

out

to be

me

yet ink I run

undried

to the brink

where dreamed her

wet

but bounded by

a page

unspilled

and digital

until she came

along with me

and tried to read

what poetry ?

to write far far sighing distant bruise

far more than publish

worth what measure of mortal sand

if crushed not lasting

until when

is not the hour

of our going All

before had coming

if only to have you

know I was

when I was

was all

I could ever have been

and to know that

will do

at least for now

in this

Life.

Variations on A theme is just to state one thing only Allroams lead to roads to the grand unpaved highwaywhere we growand passit on and then pass on

wait a whiledon't please goall like that

there was some thingonceto recall

but don't go Alllike that

we are unfinishedand yetstill

must we go

it was chill winter rain

soaked inside me

yet warmer than my bones

to which I flinched

a funeral day

many stupid summers long ago

was when I felt

the jarring blow

inside

from even further ago

but wanted the strings

to catch its dirge

to dry all me out

we look down from above on clouds

when we fly

see their complex whispy whorls and through

a diaphon

lightly exchange our own on planes we juggle other planes of updown but dvd is not long enough to catch all that is over our head

when blood is your issue

give generously

but keep

enough

to oxygenate your soul

& crimson your child

then bleed

freely

as a tickled floodgate

Sign placed above maternity ward.

the last syllableof recorded timewas a bad takeand so had to be re recorded

but was it still thenthe last andwhat was that

Shakespeare

to always have

the last word who would else Dare!

the soul being somethingthat is not really a thingneeds not revealingor revering

but

expressing

would bethe thingfielded and returned over the stumpsrun out

neat

on the rocks

with a twist

of death

yet without that ache

that heats the heart to cracking point

remembered

one you cannot have

back

of which who

bakes groaning night

to mould your head in pain

steel dreams crack sleeping

drift on rocks of solid pain

cannot be moved

but must

as All gravity

end

at every rainbow

though its light is illusory

thus is the World

thus was her touch

thus was his light

thus was your blood

infusible

but yet it flows

to an unexpected beat

it must

until its light

unto infuse your night

you will call it lovethat warmth of gushthat keeps myhand on yoursbutour eyes won't meetwhich leavesto be saidaskance whats upwhat has stopped the flowthat tied the bowthat used to rhyme what has stoppedthe love thatflowedor is it notinstead of thatthe great world movesand has flung our soulsoutthe holding hands the eyes spun out its just the thingfor humandoubt

Why must forego and foreclose and foreplayor waitforeplayforego and foreclose

or no foreplay fore go and foreclose

but now i have it

but too late fore g on e

So clear

Coherent moments are really

clouds of the mind temporarily parted so that we slip and fall into deep clarity

with nothing to hold

our us

fully reasonable implore request sanity so falling is all

the mind can see

or really be

yet

my son

he said yesterday

or will say

that the Essentials have become

totally unaffordable

so we should

buy the Luxuries

and enjoy them

but then

we could always change what is essential

in essence

but that wouldn't really be a poem

just

clouds of the mind temporarily parted so that we slip and fall into deep clarity

with nothing to hold

our us

fully reasonable implore request sanity so falling is all

the mind can see

totally unaffordable

so we should

buy the Luxuries

and enjoy them

but then

we could always change what is essential

in essence

but that wouldn't really be a poem

just

clouds of the mind temporarily parted so that we slip and fall into deep clarity

with nothing to hold

our us

fully reasonable implore request Unsanity so falling is all

the mind can see

when i tell you that i love you i will only believe that you believe it when you smile but don't please don't say thank you because that would choke the timbre of the chamber in my norwegian pine smokey flameless heart reserved fir reciprocity

without which the whole thing

just goes out

or else explodes like milky stars creating the firmament

they seek or else

the kids on speedy chromeraced through a whole wide parkbut mamed an innocent dollwho failed to move asideher bereft mothergazing after their blurcried all back to homewhere toldher mother huggedand pushed the head back onboys she groanedmake sure you keep yoursyou will need itthey hunt in packsbut you musthunt aloneand knock one's head to kingdom cometil then keep your'sall raggedybut onand dodge the packs

untiljust

one

revolutions are circularof coursesaid phillip seymour hoffmanbefore succumbingto yet anotherrevolutionalso must includecounter revolutionand stagnational eirenbuildup prelude to large gaped sighscollectivisedas commonised discontent

yet if but

why choose yetanother circle ticket to the same disconnectunless All just bepopulation controlledby Olden King Warthe nastiestthingdomof All

it could not have been more cosyit could not hve been moreanything

just he and her

and the moment where he raisedhis feetto let her vacuum

under neathhis chair

which he didwithought a thoughtalldone and dustedtheir skeletal breathingtrustedthe gleaming floor reflecteditthe place where allwould loveto sit

what would you consider aneffective love poem to be?pink and warm?a cosy storm?

or just my shoulderunwoundto your curled upleaning head

half a haikuis you

in a jade brewin an ivory bath

but the elephant

is lostforeverunjungledand not even

in the room

the minimum moment of allin a poemis now

and again.

But

its so hard to stopwhen you have nothingto say

but it can be done

if the reader agrees notto go oninto the white wild wander

YOnDeR