a jersey cow

she said that she had always used to feel like it was the
water which divided
the mainland from the island
that made the distance
feel so
vast.

lots of
old men
in tweed blazers
with beautiful
almost french
sounding
accents would
laugh and say-
ah, mais quelle mainland,
my love?

from time to time she would say
that she would give
all of the 50 pence
pieces
on
that
island
just to understand
how the sea
worked,
thousands of
grosnez
castles-
in ruins;
scattered
amid the
sandy
shores.

her thoughts
turned
hauntingly dark
in her
summers
there;
she grieved for
44
-lost
all for
unyet
ripened
tomatoes
to be
sent
across
the waves.

and then
she would
awaken to
that age-old
sound,
an animal
awaiting milking
and she would
wonder
what it felt like
when
Vikings
sailed the high seas;
to this
little
island.

maydays

lover.
you breathe just so
and
you twinkle just so
and you
move
and you
groove
just so/
i am
just so/
like a yellow butterfly;
twirling-dancing-new- - - captured.
in your little boy blue net.

creation

trying to draw blackbirds
in a blue kitchen
while the magpies on the branches
of the tree outside
fall in
and out
and in
of love.
discussing old guitars
and old effects;
our new lives
take flight.

grey

the wind howls
it has been ten hundred thousand years
and you are all that i
cannot remember.
i leave you voicemails
on the branches of your
oak tree.
the letters i write you
are returned
without postmark.
i don't even remember
the colours
in your hair.
it scares me
that mine
is somehow
the same
shade.

your absence
has started to turn
grey.

notes from a mussenden temple

i am always trying to
get over the nearness
of your ripples.
a pebble
held,
skimmed;
lost.
i waited for you
in a cave
where a train
went through;
in the dark-
thinking about
a day
that held a hat
as yellow as the sand.
as fragile as a sliding library;
above our heads.

undoing

when a tree breaks
the consequences
are frightening.

i never even
know
when it has happened

except for when
the pigeons
send their signals.

their mating calls
are starting to feel like
an age old curse;

a spell that can only
be broken
by the manic flapping

of wings. history
repeating and
undoing;

birds
keeping their
secrets.

ombres chinoises

you have no face
and yet
a priest's melody begs to accompany you.
you are masked in leather;
your former self a dead concubine.
you are a created illusion
of movement;
you are
his shadow show.

form

you- like a stream of consciousness.
you- swallowing the stars whole; dispersing their light.
fragments.
you- dancing around on the underside of a slideshow.
creeping backwards; into the night's circles.
you- like an epic drawn in chalk;
my ancient truth.

a plea

give me your flight.

send your words to me through recorded delivery.

show me your darkest insecurities.

explain to me that you do not want me near you;
howl like a wolf.

expose your tonsils to me;
be drunk in my home.