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As I’m circling round her tonight, I think people’ve made the unhappy moon mad too, Has the world made it cloudy this morning? with sorrow of tears early hours return She lurks in the shadows of night, now, rotations of moonlight, throwing lunar logic Askew, appearing then disappearing with only a question, she’s made me…

Love is his companion Joyce Logic’s flying madly round my house, I  Began a poem, thinking Joyce wise But love is always my companion In flight, elsewhere, lives in your eyes Love’s, yes, seeing in me you, Displays only your portraits, inside From here, I wish to settle on Your love, above the fight, lift…

Would you dare try break my spirit, with those words again? Wind You’ve tried, obviously, to shatter me utterly, You could be anyone in my lifelong With those words stabbed into my back, I don’t care a bit, it’s another day, carried along She’s not even gay A change in faces for you, a change…

I dwell on that bed, and her on it, where I rest my memory upon her breast in that moment, That was the cup, the moment, I’d waited my whole life to drink from it, her heart on her tongue If I could go back again in my longing, to ysolt, my mythical beauty, so…

I dont even go walking, do you know, in spirit walking I go, do You when you looked at me, centred allegiance around to Go walking round me, spirit  walking no different round me And looked at me did you know when I saw you begin to go Walking with me, transference, spirit no different…

[Well, I might add, this was written the day after the official stralia day, but I think it adds a touch of humour to the poem lol, it is quite nice, laughing at oneself, kind of like having an unbirthday, and why the heck not!? And a nice way to end it…and of course i…

(contention: they swarm around keen but nowhere found, they’re vanished, like voices in air) G: tears in moonbeams and smiles in rainbows; inbetween half in half out in shades in shadows and cunning lightning, love in ice and rage of red lights, sweet and spice, the beauty of life, found in spirits and gifted by…

I was watching TV and I thought how could you believe those things about me – washing machine – thud of street – flags arching over berwick – hearsay – I admit, I find that stupid And my elven ears listening, my beliefs of you, clashing with fears – laughing – talking to – climbing…

In another attempt at a love poem, I gather centres to centres, in a whorl of portraits, each centred in love, Gathered together, could I even closely capture the centre of even just one? And looking on- Can I see in the centre even, of them, the essence whereof? The portrait that hangs there, clasped…

Pistons were accelerating, as the earth was passing beneath, and the steam train, fast, seemed to lift my spirit, and As it passed, struck me in the head, smoke confused, like a nuke, blasted me deathless as a ghost mute Just lost, and not knowing what was lost, not knowing death, and struck dumb, nothing…