at weston park

at weston park,

multiple times

a childhood,

i sat with you

at the

cafeteria.

after

walking the

exhibits by that

poppyseeded

garden.

at weston park,

multiple times

a childhood,

walking up

those stone steps

into

a world

of possibilities,

where pharaohs

met hardened steel.

at weston park,

multiple times

a childhood,

you helped me

when

i was

frightened

by

the bear, the bear

oh the bear

and the

polar bear!

at weston park,

multiple times

a childhood,

always an inspiration

and a grounding.

oh that day we saw

the stargazers

only a distant memory

now.

that day we saw

my first monet,

and i cried.

at weston park,

multiple times

a childhood,

i tasted my future

and it tasted

hard sugar sweet

the metro

flying through the station

situated in an unknown

city where

the sky sits a lonely bright,

raining down warmth

of evening

to the men with weary eyes

staged and reflecting on what

is expected

of them as the flight

gathers strident light ghosts

stirring around


marking soft colours.

Julia

i had you, Julia.
i had you, and then

i lost you.

you were a vision, apprising
a mere mortal

like me.

a young woman marking the terrain
of her given reality.

all for you,

the salt-kissed fair ringlets,
the perfect curve of your areola

oh Julia.

you bewitched me with
your hasty enchanted absence

like a stranger.

that night you were there,
by morning, you were gone.

i had you,
i had you, and then

i had lost you.

the ivory tower

the ivory tower looms behind me on the horizon,
say the horizon line holds that tower of plated ivory;
with a knowledge of what was left behind,
and what was taken away from me.

that tower, that bony fortress of unrealistic dreams,
the ivory tower held my fairy tale dreams;
dreams which had no bearing on the real,
for nothing is quite what it seems.

the black tower on the city’s horizon is unforgettable,
my memories of that tower are now unforgettable;
i have a box of photos which carve my mind out,
manipulating me to the aerial.

those menacing money-rich days seem so far away now,
those black and menacing rich days seem so far away;
all that money that was meant to show
our vows – our dry, emotional essay.

the ivory tower still looms behind me on the horizon,
the horizon line lingers like that dress of ivory;
with a knowledge of what i've left behind,
and what i have removed from me.