you here with me
the sky’s tendency to open up
at vacuum inopportunities
growl past glaring tired reflections,
streams on bitumen
eyes off glass
today’s indiscretion oft repeated
in some esoteric penumbra
too ready to move our
servitude to eloquence
than rather sense the completeness
of Foucault in the morning,
Bathes over coffee and the
entire Fallacy drifting along the
Coogee piercing salt-bath
like our spatterings were made
share themselves with others
green goes red once more and
we seek solace in a day we call
yesterday, tomorrow’s horizon too
tumultuous to explain as we
need protections from all your armours
in that dark suit of gold you
dazzled me with once.
I want to echo round your
halls like the thoughts we sent
groggy into the hazy
morning’s stars so we can sleep
a little longer than needed to
truly start the day without
one last consumption –
scared to believe, scared to need
the last spanner’s twist to finally
breathe that last machine into me,
clockwork absolutions and simulated
cries retch out
stay you
neat horizons arch through
city sights to picture-mark those
post-card moments until you need not
apply your vaunted beyond compliance
to this depth and perspiration.
Equivocate to knocking on the southern
door to drab dreaming servitude.
tickle all the dark places
need another night
twist out somnambulance’s distance
ambling coverage
beauty in simplicity
your big brown eyes
turn greener as I slide
your look
my gaze
our luck
