(Exquisite Corpse Poem,
2002)
Essence
-Age emptied the essence
of presence from a future time
whose purity appeared as
a silhouette I needed two different
eyes to see.
Knowing nothing better than to fill the random with cobalt changing
skies, I become a brilliant vertigo of vermillion vapour
and you, a labyrinth with the temporal latitude of apparitional grace.
How beautiful to be a palpable cog in the earth's loin
The passion of our steps
aching
echoing where the winds are desperate for the music of this
strange moment played upon our veins as the sun is forged
in the palm of your hand.
How many times have we scoured the streets
Searching for refuge
Amidst grandiose lovers
where space vanishes.
That is:
I saw a way out of this vast indigo
whose colour is the sonnet of children who stroke tedium
in a dream where clouds are made to walk
the whisper of their name.
Yet even the simplest of forms knows not the days left in their steps,
why should I?
So fleeting and sometimes so few
every waking moment should not be like the last.
Sometimes it is the beauty of just being.
Being, breathing,
Not following time, reason or weather but allowing the self to be enveloped
by the smell of honey, the taste of the sun, the feel of clover.
Not following logic,
alertness, or patterns, but allowing the wooden bird to be your guide.
You, the essence of a butterfly landing on my head……
Knowing nothing, but feeling all.
