I’m a fingerprint in the dust

I’m a fingerprint in the dust
A skin on the featureless heart
This time the turmoil of the heart
Engulfs me and blasts the dust away.

Me – very few have seen me!
My identity hasn’t conquered anybody.

The turmoil of my featureless heart
Erases all personality with its quaking
Binds and shackles me to its babyish agonies;
And dissolves my face in its fire.

Poem for You and Me

Sticking together like friends in the wind
Connecting with the earth as we sleep
Like infant hedgehogs unsteady and pink
We are land-grabbers sleeping under the stars

In the falling leaves are the water spirits
The earth whispers through its cyclic love
Following the breeze to the Recall Station
Where la hope separates you from death

Asleep you feel yourself climbing
You are the sap in the tree of many faces
Suddenly in the hot sun, you hang like breadfruit from a branch
A star in the specimen dish of eternity

When the world is dead may love have a long life
May you ride with the galaxy through the changing universe
May love like white-light be your dancing gown

May new life grow in the living tresses of your hair
May your senses shine like a nebulas conquest
May you live like the cycle of the living starlight

Where does this insanity of words emerge from?
Do I suck it through a straw from a mug of vino?
I don’t know why any heart should live
Or sup on porridge in the kitchen of life

This is the poem of a Nobody, a fool
But I’ve reserved the right to be who I am
You can define me, refine me, you can even nevermind me
I’m baked in an oven like a gingerbread man

The recipe of me is almost forgotten
I am a glowing ember in the smoke of life
But I know myself like bread knows flour
And there’s hardly enough to pay for the ride

Three short poems


My dreams will reproach me
For running backwards
Into the stream of infinity

They will hang me
From a high tower
Then make me descend
Into a cellar of confinement

They will chase me
Up a dark steep hill
With a sharp hatchet
I’ll hide behind a wall of nightmare

They will show me
The secrets of my heart
Disguised as spiders
Then daylight will fall like a hole

The Missing Link

I’m the missing link
The monkey that can think
I had no mother, had no father
I had no food, had no drink

I’m the missing link
I’ve been dead for a long time
I’ve had no love, had no hate
I’m the missing link

I’m waiting to fill my place
I’m waiting to unite you
There’s a gap in the human race
Left by the blues

First Words

The place that language came from was lost;
That well at the beginning of the world, its water;
That wet the dry throat of man, with words
Newly formed like soft fruit on dusky trees.

That source of inspiration for words;
Words that were formed by thoughts;
Thoughts that produced words
And named the eye, the nose, the mouth.

Words that first described the heartbeat,
The red colour of the heart;
The passion, the tempest within
That rocked furiously until it beat.

The place where language first was heard;
The first echo of the first word;
That first warm word, its breath of air;
The breath now cold, and mingled where?

Millions more have breathed and prayed,
That air, that filled all lungs since then,
Now non can feel and no-one know
That place that language came from.