“blind walk”

the storm walked down streets
but only tore up people – lifted
from their lives for turning heads,
they found themselves possessed.

the wind was everything, tilting
all the worlds it touched – faded
memories of what came before
(eyelash hung) are blinked away.

Advertisements

“Bookshelf”

the titles reached up high,
the mountains of fantasy
dominating the upper reaches
in long stretches of hard-to-say
names and strange england-like
lands, then came the crime
in black-and-white city streets
and men with eyes too haggard,
then bright-souled coming of age
novels, asking for optimism and love.

at the bottom sat the poems
tucked into notebooks.

“It Was”

It was streetcorners and Godspeed You! Black Emperor and the way the lamps looked in the rain,
It was parking lot attendants warning us that they were busy and that we would have to come back later,
It was misplacing the ashtray and having to smoke outside instead,
It was laying on a bed covered in notebooks forcing yourself to start again, again,
It was learning how much time an Earl Grey would buy you in the average tearoom,
It was coat pockets full of receipts for things you couldn’t remember buying,
It was counting your fingers to try and forget why they were shaking,
It was forgetting to dose for a few days and remembering on the way to a gig, and spending the whole evening zoomed in,
It was writing every day just before midnight because to do otherwise was to fail,
It was

“Rooked”

Bristling with light bones
they lost themselves
on streets familiar
in that strange
spirally sort of way,
a city wrapping itself
around a focal point
a centre
something that draws
all of the buildings
together into one
encompassing entity
designated a city
on ledgers somewhere
and in the occupants
heads

“Empty Streets”

We ran so fast through streets so empty
that I wasn’t sure if we were going
in the right direction.

We kept turning back and forth
running in circles under your instruction
so I let you go alone.

Then I realised that these streets
were prisons I was doomed to walk
for as long as the world decides
to keep me stood alone.

Every step is easier
than the one that
came before.

Every love is harder
than the one that
fled before.

Every life is colder
than the few I
knew before.