As I walked home,

at night

 

I stopped right dead

in my tracks

 

At a Beauty

to behold

 

Radiant

Cast in Sliver

Wreathed in golden reflections

of Galaxy dust

 

And for a Moment

A second

I beheld this with

 William's eye

 

And I was Lost

in wounder

 till I blinked

 

The Moon

back into the

sky

Growth,

I tasted you, just,

On the back of my throat

Rich feeling of your presence

Washed across me,

Fluid.

 

Storks Yellowed legs

Patted straw

Upon chimney tops

Of

Childhood dreams

Of

Child

 

Crimson rimmed ruin

Passed slowly

Through a pause of thought

At what juncture

Does it collapse.

 

Wings lift, white feather

tipped in grime

drift across

Train tracks

leaving forests of

long toms

behind

 

Roof tops crumble

Brittle stick house,

would never be home,

I

Think on you

And I blow

My own

home down.

 I freed myself of

Our spoken words

 

I cut our verbal

Interaction

 

The tendrils

That tied our

Connections

 

Brought us together

 

What ever

That really meant

 

Was ever to mean

 

When it's always

Wet on liquors

 

The whetstone

Of sour wit.

 

Danger money should be paid

to those whose job it is

to keep stoked

the egos of

others

 

Flies swarm the eyes

Beelzebub peels

the skin from

your tongue

 

As you smile at the

nonsense of the one

stood before

both bare

and fragile

 

Yet ready to bite

strike, venom

long teeth

right through

to bone

 

In the time it takes to

lick your lips

a slow breath, a pause to blink

 

Beads of saliva

molten sweat curse

criss cross the brow

 

Burn bite back,

"why of course," and

"by the way"

you begin

 

I have fish swimming

through my vein's

Parana eating my Brain

 

As I walk across parquet flooring

 

My socks are not silk

My shoes are not hand made

 

My hair grows in its own time

 

A gold fish swims past

my sight I feel the flick

of its fan tail on

the back of my eye ball

 

Small teeth nibble my

cerebal cortex

 

My jeans are not as expensive as Evisu

but not as cheap as I should afford

 

My pants are Marks and Spencers

Yet my toes feel the grass

all the same

 

As the twist of eels

settle in my intestines

 

Streams of Roe fall out from

my nose

 

My hands are Salmon fins

 

The Cravats I wear

were given to me

in a plastic bag by

a black haired Spanish

girl born in Camden

 

My spine erupts with

slashing Manteray tails

as my skin turns

to scales

 

I wear deadmans jackets

with old blood stains

on the cuffs

 

As my legs give way

to octopus suckers

and I grab hold of

a rock

 

O Posseiden am I

a man of many

fish, sea-life soup

on a Chinese table

 

Eaten by somebody

in a Soho noodle

bar

 

My fears as salty

miso tears.

Drifting logs roll

Slumber down

the lapping shores

of sleep

 

Bird song hums

above the flutter

of closing lids

lashes clasping

on a deepened

breath

 

 

The Wind blew southerly

Across the Square

 

Picking up leaves and litter

alike

 

Bits of dust and seeds

of London's Plain

Trees

 

Stung the corner

of a Man's

left eye

 

Pigeons flapped then flew

an ascending ripple

that grew

to a flock

 

Gone on the twink

 

As the wind blew Southerly

across the square