Tag Archives: Drunk

Chartres

The pavement scars my drunken face in gravel and

her cursing bitumen eyes the houses of her face

more derelict than distraught in their abandon

to an unrelenting season of heat cooled

only slightly by the calming storm

wetted and bedraggled by the rain runnelled gutters

and the debris it casts a dirty city’s jetsam about

my damning atolll whose birds are all dead

of some falling sickness as heavy as gravity and as inexorable.

Such is my defiance that I rise only a little above this earth,

an escape velocity to the first power of c, required,

is beyond me.

The wings of her simple joys, the cathedral of her face,

flies me so high above the accusing fingers of her spires.

Soft with the cumulus, a mist in nimbus,

From here the pavement reviling the footprints

of its billion erosions

is static as a map.

(1993)

books-newtown

Castaway

I love the scar across your face,

It speaks of dissonance,

She says all malmsey and refined.

It speaks of moments,

Splayed like a windblown leaf,

Pale limbs bent back,

The mask rent,

Bone laid bare.

It speaks of gravel and splintr’d glass,

And metal buckled and mindful,

He says.

Her grimace is gentle,

Bare like autumn.

Cast away,

Her face lapses and is blunt.

uncastawayed