sublime oranges

he measured the room

by volume of the dark

with light subtracted,

moving as ulysses did in hades

he would find breakfast on the sand,

ocean not so far away

as high tides where relevant,

rituals began

ideas stencilled on embryonic dna

created this path and outlook,

sometimes he felt it was only he

he revolving and the earth had stopped,

it was not a crisis of meaning

only an imbalance on his poetics,

even in the dark

he could place a pen nib and write

about placing kisses on her

naked arcitecture,

a finding in deep silence

what she had really meant

under that cloak of shuddering mysticism

pen scratched paper

it would be ten pages,

before images faltered and pen halted,

ignoring wine that had already spilled on

table top,

peeled an orange

segmented aspects from which to

derive a special calm,

her bewitching had been an interference

but now choking fumes cleared

and he was at last

truly free

poem, poet , jazz


electric focal plane

holding her face to a crystal

formed shell,

the irony of what lay on

the foreshore was less apparent,

some wanted the reach of

mistral winds to grasp her thoughts

and send them away,

lips to kiss a transposed image,

behind open emptiness,

sky littered with white swirl gulls,

she leaned  against nothing

remaining upright

let it fall back to the sand

realizing his soul had drowned in

his body,

and there would be no counting

the years on fingers