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The Encounter


‘Please don’t hurt me.’, I heard her say as she slept. And that was the beginning of it. The precise moment my evening ended.
I lay there tormented; just wondering where she came from; what horrors she had seen, underneath her closed eyelids.
Her disturbing slumber meant no more for me and so I left her side to indulge in coffee that made me think of the waitress, in the Coffeehouse down town. It was the colour of her skin.
Those images soon evaporated in the steam as she came forward, dressed in a towel too short for her modesty.
‘Who hurts you?’ I asked as I stirred the whirling thoughts with my spoon.
‘Sorry?’ Said the stranger, walking around my kitchen like she worked there.
‘You cried out in your sleep…’
She sat down and sighed,
‘Your knee was lodged in my spine. I was trying to be polite.’


It’s in the clatter of quiet
that my brain aches – vessels
of muchness swell with
a feeling of not much
at all.
It perplexes me a little. There’s
a lot to be said for the black
chair that absorbs me
from consciousness; allowing
me to embrace a face of time
that watches me from
the shadows of his glasses
as careful words string
from his tongue
Perhaps he thinks I’m delusional.


Shine On

Tell me in silence
I won’t leave this behind me
Maybe you are hoping
that I choke
on the words

You talk in tongues of foreign
Hand gestures, newly borrowed
and smile a smile that’s
littered with a thousand
old spun kisses

There’s a dance that can’t be found
A place we used to visit
and I wonder if you see those
lights that glittered in your

How do I turn those lights off
and bathe in blessed blackness
How do I turn that switch
from this well lit
remembered mode

Because lights unshared are
They flick in slumber

Keeping you awake and
real and here
Inside my head

The Killing of The Cheshire Cat

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Laughter lines lost in darkness
Sharpness drawn in and up
with a pencil
Stencilling happiness upon a face
like those dolls; all china and lace
and like every other.
Only you discovered a hairline
Captured a
glimpse of a secret smile, within – worn and thin
with nothing but
Lined in imperfect lipstick
and now, your kiss

I miss you – not like lingering
kisses and skin, touching skin

Like thunder

Rolling thunder

And today she cracks the whip

Play the Ground.

I’m out of step
He’s a cock sure bastard, hazard
me a guess
Is it his greasy lightning
frightening the kiddies in
their beds?
And he gets lazy
Walks amongst all those distant
Laughing at strangers, howling
because they don’t
Want to see him drawing
hopscotch with my
And now there’s nothing left to do but to depart.

The day

learning a new day in an empty bed
Eyes close again to see
your face lace my pillow
skin on skin
I smell your scent

Closed eyes bring cruelty
and I, knowing full well that you
are nothing but past tense, open
them wide and find a cold, empty

Down the stairs for coffee and
We are with me again.
It’s this brain, you see.
Relentless. Heartless.

Mine. Singing with living ghosts.

The phone rings and it is not you
but I smile through as I
remember the laughter that
once flowed in this same

Catching sight of my own
reflection, pulling back


Time to pretend the day away

Just again, like all the rest.


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