she lied as she lay – in sour grapes concealed

Cosmological Implications

look at Sirius
wagging its little white tail
at your younger self

uneclipsed the moon
half in tidal sunlight bathed
its face unchanging

an unseen presence
no mundane matter its dark
mysterious ways

we guess at the rules
we crave an explanation
for why we can ask

starship in orbit:
celestial mechanics
for a Sunday muse

Unconstrained

mischievous poet
playing nookie with the phone
wife gets suspicious

he was very hard
to please and to excite him
she lied as she lay

sanctum of eros
eyes through yonder window peek
at labours within

in sour grapes concealed
must of sweet fermentation
clothes all but her bust

first tighten my lace
then once I’m fully constrained
you may apply force

Miscellaneous

shh… we grow older
no speed limit on ageing
faster and faster

brittle and rusty
leaves gather in his autumn
the sky is cloudy

talking in dead tongues
between ancient stones they sit
and criticise all

two in the morning
another two with dinner
ad infinitum

abducted again…
the concept of call centres
is too alien

my feet tread a path
invisible to others
so why the streetlights?

English, proud thou art
littered with apostrophes
ambiguity

Champollion’s muse
followed Ariadne’s thread
to Ptolemy’s tongue

ancient battlefield
time changes the rules unseen
victors complacent

the finest of wines
flows bright scarlet in the dark
calling out to me

the sky is scraping
the bottom of the barrel
for dregs of wisdom

Errant Thoughts

I love to eat what I love

high speed noise breaching isolation

the ill-bred scourge of majors general

molehills of paperwork trembling at shadows

Pairs and Pieces

mighty engines fish the internet
for clicks

I glare at the sun
chocolate on my fingers

drinking
till the heart
stops

war
the art of concealing
old problems with new

the art of war
giving one’s problems
to someone else

orange ball
burning the sky blue
cicada chorus

between this moment
and the next
but no longer
(blink and you’ll miss it)

A Lonely F/F Tea Party

a perfect circle
the shape of a speechless mouth
that has just been kissed

there’s no need for words:
when the dark robs us of sight
silent lips speak loud

I was a blind girl
though my vision was perfect
I could not see you

take away my sight
the perfection of your face
makes all else seem dull

you do not love me
when I see me through your eyes
I do not see me

lesbians on Crete
is this the right place to be
reading oranges

such succulent flesh
to have such a bitter skin
you make the sun shine

orange ball rising
cicadas awake at dawn
as the sky burns blue

crystal-bright sea waves
to the sand so soft-caressed…
beware her kisses!

her mouth a red rose
lips petal-soft and pouting
the taste of fresh blood

wild beauty’s embrace
tight her talons’ purchases
my flesh weeps for her

lips salted with tears
licked from shame-flushed rosy cheeks…
how sweet your kisses!