A mostrar mensagens de 2017


go and ride a thousand days,
my clear-eyed messengers,
scour all points of the compass
and find me a glimpse of iridescence

for shining guidance into the unknown
on the day that I die

azerbaijan noon

erratic echoes
of a swallow's cries
faint and shrill,
lost midget amid
the persian blue vault
of turquoise and gentian tiles,
pool of cool noon,
in iridescent samarkand.

the first shy note strikes the oud


and so I'm finally an orphan.

all your deaths
have scarred my soul:
I've grown numb
to my own death
number 1 of 1


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.