Gypsy

So I'm back... to the velvet... undergroundBack to the floor... that I loveTo a room... with some lace and paper flowersBack to the gypsy... that I wasTo the gypsy... that I... was...
And it all comes down to youWell you know that it doesWell... lightening strikes, maybe once... maybe twice Oh and it lights up the night  And you see your gypsyYou see your gypsy...
To the gypsy... that remainsFaces freedom... with a little... fearI have no fear, I have only loveAnd if I was a childAnd the child was enoughEnough for me to loveEnough to... love...
She is dancing... away... from me nowShe was just a wishShe was just... a wishAnd a memory is all that is left for you nowYou see your gypsyOh... you see your gypsy

Stevie Nicks

In the Midday Dusk - 2nd iteration

In the midday dusk of snow curtained skylight,
I remember the morning sun
leaking her blood onto my breast;
droplets gliding slow over the lip
of torn skin,
filling the exposed cave of my chest.

This luminous pool of magma still smolders
charging my bliss,
linking me to the universal mix.
My gold expands into the golden ocean
and I am filled of You.

In the Midday Dusk - first draft

Dark days teach us to love the light. I have learnt that with light inside, no days are dark.


In the midday dusk of snow curtained skylight,
I remember the morning sun
leaking her blood onto my breast;
droplets gliding slow over the lip
of torn skin,
filling the exposed cave of my chest.

This luminous pool of magma
smolders still
charging my bliss,
linking me to the universal mix.
My gold drips into the golden ocean
and I am filled of You.

Self as lotus

Learning to see three sides to a story 

learning to listen to truth between words 

learning to grasp the air as my lover 

learning to live in the light between dreams

Winter Sweater - draft 2 + 3

Lyrics for a song

Left with nothing to say,
I knit this winter sweater.
The thread of you already done
maxed out with blunt end at the
three month premium.
Yet looped into the previous,
already the next one begun;
The stitch of a day
A  meeting, perhaps kiss,
Neither bind nor cast - 
the constant clicking dance of the wrist.

The bits we shared the dares the songs
All now woolen loops 
Row upon row.
Put the emotions in a poem
Said an earlier one, the words stitched
In stripes of turquoise and indigo.

the three month stretch -
then a three month stretch -
see you again when the next three is done.
when you find she too isn't the one

But if in a still moment with needles down
I speak a truth, it's this:
what I loved was the me in you -
the joy and beauty I was, I still am
knitted into cloth of glacier blue,
knotted with some hope in your carmine hue 
though all along I knew you weren't the one.

I'll keep up with the thread, keep knitting my yarn
til one day they bury me in my sweater, still not done.
still warm with the love I have for each one
each stripe
each color
each dear storied man
who loved me for a season,
a three month yarn.

the three month stretch 

then a three month stretch

see you again when the next three is done.

when you decide she too was just for fun

and I in soft progress have looped a new one.

Winter sweater - draft 1 (initial word dump)

Lyrics for a song

You with nothing to say,
I knit this winter sweater
the thread of you already done
maxed out to a blunt end at the
three month premium.
Yet already the next one begun
looped into the previous;
the stitch of a day
a (birthday) meeting perhaps a kiss
neither bind nor cast, just click
continue a dance of the wrist

The bits we shared the dares the songs
all now loops in woolen memory
row upon row.
put the emotions in a poem
said an earlier one, the words stitched
in his stripe of turquoise and indigo

the three month stretch
then a three month stretch
see you again when the next three month is done.
when you find she too isn't the one

but if in a still moment with needles down
i speak a truth it's this:
what i loved was the me in you
the joy and beauty i was, i still am
knitted into cloth of glacier blue
knotted with some hope in your carmine hue
though all along i knew you weren't the one.

i'll keep up with the thread, keep knitting my yarn
til one day they bury me in my winter sweater, still not done.
still warm with the love i have for each one
each stripe
each color
each dear storied man
who loved me for a moment
a three month yarn.

the three month stretch 

then a three month stretch

see you again when the next three month is done.

when you find she too was just for fun

and I in soft progress have looped a new one

Mediated Cities I (draft 1)

Her gold scream cracked dawn on Reykjavik;

A fissure piercing frozen sleep, prodding nocturnal workers
and night-long drinkers in numb retreat, 

severing lovers' conjoined limbs with the fierce rebuke 

of restored sight.

In sharp key of hard light two hours high 

her scream refracts off Esja's back;

long geometries paint box houses -
moving swathes of evasive darkness hugging edges,
avoiding the lock 

The third hour. As though the city exists through writing

through blue ice my bold scream pries open its distant

my own exotic lies.

glaciers folding into dark

That penurious dawn in Reykjavik that cracked to a slivered fissure
now a warm hearted hum, death before bloom
Four hours 

dying in muted climax