Middle Meadows Walk

By the clouds, by the stars
I am enclosed

Rachmaninov lifts me from the cement below
Whispering in my cold ears
His orchestra soars
Matching my magnified heartbeat

Half way down the path
My doppelgänger shadows smirk
I fear that I’ll turn around, hands in pockets
To see my own night-time figure peering back

My dark imaginings,
The gothic moon above,
Pulsing strings and deep blue dread
Beams down in Russian black

Everything crescendos
Until I feel my keys

And see the sodium street-lamps
Guide me to my door
With their golden, unblinking eyes

The Walk Home

Tied

It escaped from my grasp

with the wave, with the wave

I found it there no further a walk

because we walked, we walked

and I sought to dig it from deep

where it stuck, it got stuck

no longer could the lid from the jar

open in the time I couldn’t, the time

all it needed was a source of light

the dark sets in at noon, the dark

after hours it fell down harder

I let it fall, and it fell

tightly wound as a rope around my hands

I’m tied up now, tied up

loose ends taunt me as they never have

now I can’t escape, escape

so I sat down to breathe

waiting for peace, my peace to come

Moontide



with straining eyes,
she holds a simple glass
milk poured from the grey dark
walks outside to the blue dark

with burning ears,
she breathes in the pinpricks
they fade in blinks
everything still, a silhouette

with white skin,
she passes two hours by
sipped, swigged, taken
the glass is empty

with naked feet,
she sees a sky blushing itself awake
one hundred metres from
a better smudged yesterday