stand at a gate

walk through a river

lay one stone of sand upon another

do not go down

cry a day into night

you are not touched

your colour is fading

say with your hands

in somebody else’s sleep

there are ways to wake up

and ways to keep dreaming

I didn’t know I’d forfeit

all of my directions

 

 

your nebula tires coming home

is it that stars have fallen

or did we rise over ourselves

i get lost in the crowd

which is so important

to the crowd

i hold out my hand and there seems to be

somewhere to put an end

i have a number that means

i don’t understand faces

therefore i don’t recognise

why we know each other so little so well

the night that comes up from our lives

follows us where we stop

to shed a few crumbs

and look at what is left of the horizon

nothing harder than the flower

knowing you are between airs

a sign just as usual

wearing enough okay

why petals are admired for ignoring you

i don’t know

on top of engaging with silence

and the demands

of being so easy

what we are now

is if you knew

the last silence

there is so much to say

when you don’t have silence

and when you do

you are laying brick upon brick

to cover yourself just in case

 

the owl stands all night long

like a table that stops being a table

and the up side down

cuts its hair and finds you in the mirror

all along the side is your name

facing

one of the ways

 

what is important

lands on what is correct

now you run around

and put things in places

i know your name

i have your papers

and your numbers

you are one square metre

and that depends on sundays

like for so long dragging your feet

through what understands

how more makes less

 

i have a title for you

but the page is blank

letters are cryptic if we have prisons

an oh how we have prisons