THE JOY OF DETOX

Exquisite torment

of attenuated days;

dissipated flesh

reconstitutes in slow

torture

senses

sharpened on the edge

of re-entry

burn

hot and cold surreal –

real?

How do you recognise

normal? maybe

normal always

hurts.

OF POETS AND POETRY

Look

where

ever

you

be

unnecessary is

the Kontiki Tour of

hell

Bacchus rapes

the muse but cannot

hold her

resist

the urge to be

a clown –

one-liners are not

poetry

dream

but don’t forget to

open your eyes

YOUR PICTURE

You

would probably

delete it –

you’re so fussy

about

your photos –

angle, expression

shadow and light always

          perfect –

contrived – controlled.

But it’s mine. Unaffected

your eyes

alive with the moment –

a fixed point

frozen

before winter’s descent –

shining at

smiling at

warming

loving

me –

present undefiled

future still unreal –

the last good bad time.

TANKA - Epilogue

Home Helen goes to

          Menelaus, best of men.

                   Paris, beloved

of Aphrodite, succumbs –

Narcissus garlands his rest.

METRO (Aggravation)

Ignorant

that her voice

spirited by

the miracle in her hand

can whisper over oceans

a woman shouts in Mandarin.

Bloody shut up

a middle-aged man

open-mouth chewing

grunts

between cracks of gum.

Opposite

a nod

agreement from a cloud

of garlic

and two day-old BO.

For fuck’s sake

I mutter –

showered

shaven

brushed, flossed and gargled

laundered and deodorised –

quiet

and reeking

of new cigarette smoke.

DIALOGUE (Internal)

Loser

loser loser

loser loser loser

loser loser

loser

loser loser loser loser

          loser loser –

loser loser loser loser loser

          loser –

loser loser.

Loser.

Repeat.

PARIS (False Pretences)

You have

had

time now perhaps

to think that I

befriended

you under

false

pretences.

But

how

having never

tasted or seen

a fruit –

knowing only

its name –

can you recognise

its juice

for the first time

overflowing

your lips?

We both bit

innocent

I stole nothing.