beauty, love, lust, poetry, women

Kiss Your Bones

I’m not the animal groom

Seeking to keep you in one place

Frozen forever

No, I drag your bones from

The depths

Hold them to my skin

Lend some warmth

Until a heart flowers

Skin breathes

And you become,

Supple, playful,

Back arched to receive

And I will shower you

In glistening filth

Awash with disreputable


men, poetry

Crossed Legs

Crossed legs

Fixed expression

‘Any spare change?’

Glittering stubble and rotten apple cheeks

Invisible and camouflaged in pavement colour

Street textures

Of course he has a can by his side

Wouldn’t you take anything to

Hide from the hard surfaces

Sharp edges and yet he is there

I don’t have any change

Too busy running to stay in place

To accumulate coins

And we are all one bad day

From sitting down

Crossed legs

Fixed expression

‘Any spare change?’

But desperation

Hardens and focuses a man

Like in romantic comedies

Except you’re stalking life

Thinking it is mutable

And you are not

Maybe he sat down because

He figured out

It is the other way


love, poetry, women



Ask me something

About myself

Something complex and personal

I’m not carrying baggage

Past my allowance

But sometimes

I just want to feel

I’m not invisible


A cuddly toy who sits bitter watches

Ask me



beauty, love, poetry, women

Warm night

A string of lights

Coiled like DNA of angels

Warm night

And she’s upstairs having a bath


Something complex and syncopated


Playing on the computer

Because who listens to a stereo anymore?

but I’ve a mind to turn it off

Listen to the moment breathe instead

And a hard week behind me

Another ahead

But this chair is firm under me

And I need so little to be happy

(That joke writes itself

I am sure)

Still, on call,

And do it without complaint

Different with her,

And even the flaws serve as good


The sound of her footsteps

On the stairs

Putting the kettle on

Book closes

Opens again


With polite company

The blithe roll of days

Stuck in the game as well

As you can be

Does it hurt to be you?

How quickly we have defeated ourselves

Unwashed plates,

In the sinks of our souls,

Looked outside and saw you

Dragging your suitcase to the lawn

One way or another

We are all leaving and packing,

Sometimes in a hurry

But the aim of consciousness

Without conception,

Is a step ahead,

And if it helps you

Remember those whose lives are spent forever,

Sat with polite company

Waiting rooms

Bus stations

And never getting to see anyone

Go anywhere

But I’ve got a book and I’ll risk

A conversation with a stranger




beauty, love, masculinity, poetry, women

Whether dream

Streets turned to mirrors

Marking time with cigarettes

And in my head

I’m twisting you to points of

Sublime, complicated pleasure

Being smart is sometimes

As much a burden as being aroused

The world mocks the man

Who owns himself



But my kisses are sweet

And before the world calls me


One last kiss

Whether dream

Whether real

To send us off

To whatever comes