kkog

We're almost home, I say to her as she sleeps. At a hundred miles an hour on empty motorway what was cut and blasted during day becomes empty gray parting black. The moon is veiled over my right shoulder. Dials burn red, red into night Then the glaring blue of a misplaced xenon filament, oncoming And the flat ribbon of river becomes a steel sheet glimpsed under moonlight as the road slips beneath my rumbling tires.

Now the wind screams down glass canyons through brickwork veins through empty streets as motherfather sleep on the bench with oldcoat blanket. The wind screams through crane lattices scarem. scarem off the streets. Night's too long and too cold here she's keening, doesn't mean much baby quarrels and affirmations aren't from seven stories up. When I see down there a woman embracing one unseen like she's dancing, yeah damn nice number when I only hear the wind screaming then puffs a fag and goes off pushing a babycart and two girls holding hands holding arms holding tight kisses another on the head like lover sisters walk off fi

I don't sleep. Not since I pulled back the sky and found not epiphany but indifference glancing past. Like how she bleeds nourishes feeds the bare earth, that wine ichor that spills and overflows her heart's boundaries. Through my eyes of cracked marble. Amid the white, little streams of red.

Warm rain trickles down my back electric delight at two past midnight. If only silence could drip past the roaring drive home on an empty freeway weaving past phantoms. Back home to a quiet house hoarse shouting only faint echoes now and a rat running mad in the cupboards with ten lives lost, twenty to go. In my ears the words of fellow lovers of the scribbled word screaming unspoken meanings, insinuations on the madness of being human. And now clean sheets paisley and green yesterday's blanket on warm scrubbed skin pillows unwashed beckon to an empty bed.

I waited for you by the sea. The children are asleep now, sand wet on their toes, peace in dusty rags. The moon hangs high, bloated pale corpsegas lantern to insomniac dreams and mindless caress of seagrass carved out in an instant of dynamite. I wait. The instant comes now when I drown you in the inky black flailing hair black against black (Y)our flesh vainly comes up for air (automatic response) But your eyes are empty, have always been and my hands are a vise. And now the tide rolls back From the blue desert, the white emerges And no trace of you.