Friday, May 30, 2008

Jazz Black

On me your voice unfolds
Like they say love should

Jazz black
A Thunderstorm in eyebrows
held tender as at twilight the weeping skies
The jangle and ka-boom of a canon stride
The hunger in your face
As you stare at me
As you stare at yourself
The mountain god made you
With a wisp of a shadow
Mixed with rain drenched earth
The soul of a kite
And shoulders of a pragmatist
Music in your veins
That pulse through to your heart
As this songbird
Perches on you
Shimmering wings that flew
For several summers
South into your arms

Afternoon After

A still grey afternoon of sombre truck
Desiccates the spirit within
That gossamer thing
Suppressed under layers of heaviness
Of successive siestas
Through yawns emptying delight
Freshness of the morning
Given way to optimism
Of clear eyes unclouded by dreams
Of long nights on itchy mattresses
By the side of moist warm bodies
Of stale lovers

Who in evening glow shimmered
Whose bodies undressed glowed velvet
So removed from the late night’s chancing
When to a whirling moth they seemed
Pretty butterflies to drunken eyes
In the dry drunk desperation
Of late early party mornings
When anything would have done
Had done them, being done for
Again and yet again