"It's down to the shakes I feel"

The tremor never stops
my nerves are shot
a constant vibration like a tuning fork
hums through my hands
and the note it plays
can be seen in the almost imperceptible way they move
as if they have a constant source of energy to twitch
a switch that was never turned off
and now they’re paused on pulsate
and as I clasp the towel around myself tight
left hand always under right
at this time most every night
I wonder
what makes them shake in fright?

Under The Sun

I gotta say
most days it’s totally okay
that I don’t have an original bone in my body
take a look at the x-ray
all translucent white and cartilage grey
not an original bone in my body
all my thoughts come to me via osmosis
a sort of existential osteoporosis
leaving not an original bone in my body
a skeleton made up of other people’s musings
contemplations and confusings
not an original bone in my body
I prefer to read someone else’s poetry
I enjoy listening to another’s melody
I reap the rewards of their originality
BUT
when I Google search a great idea
that I think no one could have come near
only to find one hundred results from just the last year
well
frankly
that’s a little fucking annoying

Treble Clef

Set list scrawled on your wrist in ink and sweat
buzzers for parmigianas beep and they go to get
their beer and their chicken and their chips and their salad
you take the stage and slide between the chords of a brand new ballad
your hand shortens the strings and you sing of hearts and healing
and they are universal themes with which you are dealing
and in this pub in the city of a town that is not anywhere much
there is not a heart in the room that you could fail to touch
if they would just

listen

Six Ways Til Sunday

I have told him
I don’t want a funeral
just scatter my dust along our beach
and let it spread across the seven seas
six ways til Sunday
I have told him
I have no desire
for a permanent memento
or prominent monument
or for people to gather in grief
I have no wish to leave a lasting memory
just add my ashes
like some extra dashes of salt on the sea
and I’ll be free
and then you needn’t mourn for me
anymore

Script

She squeezes the child-proof lid
then taps the tablets out
the delicate white discs sprinkle on to her palm
so small they almost get lost in the lines
she calculates how many days they’ll get her through
and wonders how it would feel to take more than a few
and how much it matters that they leave a little residue
on her fingertips
she can taste the acidity on her lips
a powdered trace
she inspects her face
in the bathroom mirror
and looks into the inner
black pupiled void
and marvels at the intricate contrast
of the surrounding circle of green marbled glass

Decoder Ring

I thought of a song
so I decided to play it
but I didn’t make it
all the way through
it’s still on the screen
stopped at 1:56/2:41
I couldn’t let it go on
I’m not sure if she’s singing "in my house” or “in my heart”
but I know she is saying “you’ll stay”
just that one word
pulls so much
and takes me back
in time
to when I heard this tune
almost every day
“stay”
you didn’t
you couldn’t
and you wouldn’t want me to be this way
and I’m sorry I don’t think of you enough
or that I think of you too much
I looked up the lyrics
it’s “in my heart”
it’s in my heart
I know that part now
but I won't press play
I'll let us stay
paused

Dichotomy

Today I saw scenes on the television screen
of men walking through a forest
They opened a cage
set their sights high
and shot down those they’d just set free

Today I saw scenes on the television screen
of men climbing a cliff
They reached the chosen spot
in a place so high the world below became pixelated
squares of blues and greens
They opened the cage door
the albatross opened its wings
(like a conductor about to create a concerto from silence
or when everything hangs in the balance)
it let the wind circle around each feather
took account of the weather
the world held its breath
and on the exhale
it
soared

To Write Them Down

A turn of phrase
or sayings they liked to use
and names they called special ones
it makes them live on

I heard her yesterday in my head
“don’t grizzle” she said
that’s what she used to say to me
“don’t grizzle”

He called me “Missy”
no one else ever has
I miss hearing that name
but it wouldn’t be the same if someone else starting using it

There’s one I never met
but when I’m told of his expressions it’s like I have
“Directly” he would respond, apparently,
when asked if he’d completed a task
“I’ll do it directly”

On the plaque in the remembrance garden
under the details of her life’s span
he signed it
“Until we meet again, love Squaddie”
that was her name for him
“Squaddie”

If I think of more
I’ll be sure
to write them down

Greenwich

I remember when
I saw the world laid out flat
on a map
it dawned on me
I could do that
I could go
anywhere I cared to see
all that was required was time
all the time in the world
lined up chronologically
I read it from left to right
continents and countries
oceans and vast seas
at my fingertips
and at my feet
and I promised myself the earth

For Those That Still Can Fly

I asked him
“where do all the birds end up?
the sky seems so full of formations and flocks
but I don’t see even one dead body a day
is there somewhere sacred they go to pass away?”

“No”
he replied
“I see them all the time after they’ve died
it’s usually a cat, or disease or old age”

which seemed such an unceremonious response
to the plight of the flightless amongst us
I was hoping for a more enthralling story
of wise and noble final journeys
to resting places worthy
of lives spent experiencing a borderless freedom
beyond our comprehension

At least, I guess
I can pay respect
by continuing to follow in his stride
as we go searching far and wide
our eyes searching high
scanning the sky
for those that still can fly

Even Your Eyes

You’ve been gone so long
even your eyes have picked up an accent
I used to know just what you meant
from only one look
an open book
reading between the lines
like secret messages we find
made of lemon juice on paper
for us to heat up and discover
for later
but now
somehow
over time
and distance
(or possibly linguistics)
something’s changed
your eyes don’t sound the same

A Beautiful View

A beautiful view sends her to
such a melancholy place
“life” she thinks
“is a torturous existence”
she’ll write a poem and rhyme it with “persistence”
later that night
after a fright
a small body will pull back the sheets
and climb into her bed
and their heads will touch
silence
and they’ll stare at each other
still silence
and after some time the child will return to her room
neither knowing who was the one most comforted

Stones and Sticks

Stones and sticks
can’t fix
broken bones
but bricks
and mortar
well they oughtta soothe
frayed nerves
but now this home
once my centre
has got me on edge
but if you were to walk through the door
just once more
I’d find a way so you could stay
and I would be the one who leaves
on this family tree
that’s the way it was supposed to be

Static

A change is in the air
you feel it and become aware
of the soft hairs on your arms
they’re standing on end

nothing can stay the same
can’t go back to where we came
it's a constant state of flux
change, gains and loss

time cannot stand still
you just have to wait until
you know it’s on your side
then make your move

learning to tell the difference
between static and interference
is the hardest lesson
I still have yet to learn

Still Life

The thin, tall vase stands still on the windowsill
like a sentinel
the gerbera, still full of life, is dipped into its water and made to face away from the view
its blood red petals admired as chores are performed in the kitchen
but over time, when unobserved, it slowly turns to face the sun
to gaze at the garden from whence it did come

Dawn’s Chorus

I can hear dawn’s chorus
announcing for us
that we’ve survived another night
and when we’re ready
we can open our eyes
and check to see
if we’re still in our right minds
with what’s left of our wits
but every day I think
at some point between lights-out and sunrise
I wouldn’t be surprised
to awake to discover
I’ve gone completely stark raving mad

Living In A Landscape Painting

You want to live in a landscape painting
well we’re washed out from all this waiting
this world will bleed you until you’re dry
and leave chalk outlines of where we lie
but we can find a way to put colour back in
just choose a hue and then begin

Peregian

We walked along your beach today
we didn’t have a lot to say to each other
I remember the last Christmas together
before the news broke
how I awoke one morning and went down to the sand
and began to feel a sense of unease
and wondered to myself what I would do
if I knew this was the last time I’d see these waves
perhaps it pays to give attention to these premonitions
because as it turns out, I was thinking of you

Au Revoir

If I were to write
a farewell note
If I wrote
such a thing
it would begin with
"Goodbye"

A Few Words On Seven Years

I’m going to step outside today
with a pair of secateurs
and snip at the stem some flowers for your vases
it’s Spring again and there’s so much new life to collect for decoration
it’s September again but it’s not the date that makes me recollect how much time has past
it’s walking passed a bookshop to see your favourite author has released another novel
just another you’ll never read
for some reason, amongst all the other injustices of being made to leave too soon
that sometimes seems to be the cruellest blow
it’s just these simple pleasures that I now know
you’ll never get to experience again
and I can’t read them for you
they’re not really to my taste
that’s why it seems such a heartbreaking waste
that they just sit on the bookstore shelf
because I still just don’t understand why you didn’t get to read them for yourself

The Time To Miss You

In the morning
when I wake
you’re there and framed
and so I take
the time to miss you
in that moment
it can't be saved up
and it can't be lent
and it can't be put off
and it can't be misspent
and we sure can’t take it with us
and then I wipe the dust from your face
and then I put you back in your place
and then I type to fill the space
so you won’t be gone without a trace

Let It Come To Me

This water won’t let me drown
it provides resistance as I push my way down
way down
it wants me to float
to surface
I thought its purpose
was to see me sink
but I think not today
rather than dive for the deep
I’ll strive for the steep, clean air
or maybe just let it come to me
buoyancy
slow and steady
I will rise
and surprise the sunlight
I’ve begun the climb
and the bends will end in time

Sunday Drive

We’re up high
bird’s eye view
as we look down
in the distance below
the city buildings
in a haphazard row
seem like jagged, broken teeth
in a mouth that’s felt
the punishing impact of a closed fist
or never been kissed
but you say
from so far away
they look like tombstones

Death Sentence

A death sentence
is what we need
just a few words
strung together
like so
that can tie up the loose ends
and see us part as friends
start to mend raw edges
A death sentence
that will make you see
there’s no life left in what we had
words wounded it
and they need to finish it off
so there’s no misconception
no expectation of resurrection
A death sentence
twenty five words or less
so we can lay to rest
once and for all
our sakes
this long
drawn
out
final
farewell

well,
I’ll go first

An Unguarded Heart

The heart needs protecting
never forgetting
that constant vigilance
and diligence
is required to combat threats to its fragility
an unguarded heart
poses a greater threat to life
than a thousand strikes
and blows
he who knows this
shows true strength
there is no length a heart won’t go to
so you better know how to last the distance