Two Left Feet
Sometimes
when i walk towards you
i have two left feet
both of them turning at angles
trying to keep myself in balance
so i can dance like the angel
you said i was.
Burn up
I apologise - I am searching through my records for a copy of this poem - it was very tongue-in-cheek - and written based upon a prompt given by The New Zealand Listener.
Andy Warhol
This
is
a
poem.
A recent, unpublished poem.
too much tension inside you
too little comprehension
outside you of the dangers
of cavitation
i don’t understand these days
where the air is more dense
than the soil
even the ants
are abandoning the earth
and digging portholes to the sky
outside you
damned humidity
turning humility
into cruelty
testing boundaries
you didn’t even know
you didn’t have
i don’t understand these nights
where the air is more dense
than the darkness
even the children
are abandoning their dreams
and clawing black holes to the sky
turning your sap
into isolated, unspeakable bubbles
that choke you
your roots are parched
not rotten
but dead all the same
i don’t understand these days
when the air is more dense
than the light
even the plants
are abandoning this life
and screaming ionic wholes to the sky
is it just the wrong
soil for you
the wrong clime
or time
all leading you
towards your dissolution.
(in plants the formation of an air-bubble inside the tubes that usually carry water is called cavitation and can result in death)
Cavitation
A Warmer Sun
(winters end in Barnes)
A honeyed blue sky sweats on tiled roofs
and the pavement dances to the rhythm
of children laughing in sunshine
jackets burst open
like puzzled birds of colour
flapping in a breeze
of warming thoughts and flying feet
and trees cast off the winter
in a rush of sap
they throw their arms to the sky
and try to catch a warmer sun.
Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.
Anton Chekhov