suspended

suspended,
in space,
between the
iridescent glow
and the chilling
fog.

suspended,
in time,
the clocks
stuck in the
moment
whilst I tour.

suspended,
in place,
feeling the taut,
brittle,
tightness,
of the solitude.

suspended,
in phase,
looking over
the edge into
the future
as the past

suspends belief,
and the wind
reaches over
for the cold,
crisp,
water below.

him and her

him: i have never felt such

anger,

and been so
scared--

both at the exact same time

how could you?


her: if i knew that, wouldn’t i be telling you?

Yes,
well,

i sort of had to.

Coping

isn’t something that I had been

good at

(for a while now),
and with everything,

it pushed me too far.
Far too far.


her: it is time to end the emotional distance.

Love

is all she needs,

love
and support.

Comfort.


him: do you think this has something to do
with

gender?

(why she took them?)

perhaps we can look towards the sky,
at the birds.

Birds provide solace, and a contemplatary silence.


her: doesn’t seem that much of a good idea to me.

Look --

look at me,
no,

look

at

me.

i am not going to do that again.

i wouldn’t do that again,

i promise.
(but I still don’t know how and why)

i walked with a zombie

felt that air on my face
and the palm wine on your breath,

the okra is good,
but the pepper soup is so much better,

i can sense you my spirit child
you want to be so free

reeking havoc on the very people
that have led to your doom.

Yoga

I meditate

think of you

There with me

We hold hands

whilst doing

Corps...e pose.

Anais, Anais

"talking a broken dream, with spaces, reversals, retractions, and galloping fantasies"

i found you Anais Nin,
i found you and i refuse to let you go.

i feel your hot breath on my cheek.
i feel the blood moving thru your heart as

i caress and palm your breast.
i dreamt about you last night--

i noticed you out of the corner of my eye,
i stared at you, i made you blush,

i moved into your soulful space.
i long to use words to make your heart race.

i know what you are thinking, what you are not thinking,
i can see you think too hard, as well.

i want to turn my back on you, let you move behind me,
i want -- oh, Anais, Anais -- i want to let you find me too.

for leah southwell-wright

I close my eyes and remember you
sipping the cold, heavy and sickly sweet
substance, that brought about your end.

I remember you,
like you were sitting here
in front of me,

I remember,
your sarcastic tone,
and your narcassistic and

strangely meek style.

the way you moved around the subject,
and moved around others.

you caused them to spin with confusion.
(and then some).

but you looked on confused yourself.
unsure as well as completely sure.

a social commentator, never a sheep,
a leader to the unleadable.

you were revolutionary.

a legend.

I would worship the ground you walked upon

(if you still walked).

cape reinga

trying to cast the spirits away
but nothing’s left.

his sad old spirit stayed where it was
a continuation of the memories
a continuation of the ghosts

a continuation of the remembering.

journeyed against time, against wind.
pushed to the edge of the edge
and for what?

for an empty promise never resolved.

the winds pushed them, held them on the cape
trying so hard to fly away, leave this world behind,
but the gripping hands held them back.

after fighting to get to the ends of the earth.

the ends of existence,
the rock face wouldn’t let them be.
paralysed feet, they held onto that hard rock,

unable to move, unable to speak.

she looked up to the white sky, searching for God,
clinging onto a hope that she wasn’t sure remained.
searching around I found emptiness.

the dirt roads carried them to our goal.

with a vehicle soon to wither and depart,
with the good mood, it withered and departed,
with the wish to live, it withered; departed.

like the spirits cast from the tree at reinga -
might love rise up and leave us in the dead of the night?