so, eventually there comes a time
when our words mean nothing
when our ink's dried out
and our pain is gone
and nothing is, but
what we do.

ages-old friend
 welcome back
 together again

 let us love


catch a window

my distant tendrils already
burying into seniority,
with twenty-six percent of the
body and brain
slowly breaking down

what-the-fuck as I look in the mirror.
no gentle business,
and ever-so-irreversible.

true, it's vaguely becoming -
I've got the style now
but no looks or stamina are left

this sad sod here,
waiting for you to
catch up
with me


single pidgeon
in the distance
of boundless
grey suburban skies.


taking flight

we revelled in the cold autumn rain
that pattered all night through our open
bedroom window:
the lime taste of oxygen

but suddenly the sky
sweeps in from Meknes
spreads blue hot chalk over
god-forsaken Lisbon urburbs
the asphalt crawling with
gross fat black
glistening princess ants

princesses in life-and-death quests
for the promised life
the promised home
they were entitled to
blind to future

they make me sick to the
stick to my trousers, to the windshield
as I myself turn gradually into no
boiling away on the
hot autumn asphalt

so in the stone blue distance
let us hide
in grounded old
in the museum of flight
before I vanish for good

let me hide my hideous
shrinking head
in the warm Bedouin tent
of the gentle cup of your hands
where I know you will love me
as I grow senile
and evaporate

I love you for so much more
than this


more explicit
places & times

if it weren't for love

A hundred years on, I mummify
Under pinetree and cyprest and
Children cloaked in 3D twirling
Unseeable, unfathomable bliss

So I grow older imperceptably
With each further quarter-hour
Drowning in the breathtaking
Fragrancy of pine-sap oozing
From the autumn heat of Lisbon

My sight and my aging trapped in
Hot golden amber

Wish you were here
Your perfect smile
To kiss sense into me