28.7.20
208
how many rooms to the heart?
I will paint you
no stone unturned
but certain lines of
fruitless enquiry
it has a kind of
mansion mist
to wonder where I’ve
been
shouting room to room…
your shout
house taller than the
wind it is
roof drips through
a trail is left
all random
architecture
built on a lie like
love
‘should the stove be
on?’
a yodel
Chinese boxes,
Russian dolls
room of the omiyage
how many rooms and
where are you hiding?
we sardines and this
our tin
keep moist and
stretch the skin
most private where I take
off your dress, unbra
elastic loose down
release the beast
a downstream drift
forest selves away
room of the treetops
then
clouds come
days couldn’t be more
naked
still tearing down to
flesh
and after, driven
from the rain
verandering, relieve
myself
be taken in with view
great hearts
and brave
and faint as well
gravelly voice
and risk
going out
may not be back for some time
having dreamt us
there
where once we met
(little chamber of
horrors)
facts face me but I
brush them off
I write it up
I rug the floor
of course so tangled
too
thus lost
rats run
was with whiff we
went
taste blood, follow
come to the poem in
love
(a kind of garden
indoors)
all our ever building
houses
every inch in the heart
lean to
so
come to the poem in
love
with time stood still
viola slow
the rhapsody of
corridors
and often lightless
you could be anywhere
open a window – fresh
air
have hearts in spades
then after diamonds
take to the club
trip stage
and bowl the
breadrolls, Bertie
do deathbed scenes,
give birth
family! help! get
me out!
there must be some
kind of way
a journey to the
centre
and bottom of this
sea
stumped
over the hills and
far far better
one of us at least
consider care home
cave retreat
let things come out
in the wash
each mood its room
came here to lose the
battle
and lick my wound,
won’t you?
that’s lovely
surrender
you climb on
it was a wish
rhetorical
demented wander of it
was
boomerang too
it’s me – I’m back
sometimes too green
the meadow lies
but I translate
myself
an inventory of words
eke
a store room where we
keep the craft
so long forgotten
every other language
is lovely
over the edge we
why even speak?
how many chambers?
who else is here?
will we echo after
could be quite a
crowd
and counting
then I suspect myself
of a crime
until the penny drops
an every instant
puzzle self
behind closed doors
all scheming
frantic
filling out forms fill
out
rubber stamps
chase paper and now
on-line
a room
for the spinning
wheel of death
where we have
forgotten
will forget
where were we?
hall of doors and
mirrors
traps
creep through the
ventilation shaft
walls close in
though rubberized
look for the mail
and I show up like a
bad penny
long since the
divorce
the heart is a church
as well
all prey
upon
little window in the
door
blinds up
peer in
it’s a sitcom
sand through the
hourglass
and we have a serious
side
whole cities sunk to
love
a wicked cobalt blue
storms of
went down in the piano
fishing
not expected back
I found you in the
compost pile
meaning we are weeds
or worse
we garden only for
the gnome
chewed and through
together
and all at sea
a light through the
woods
is my heart come home
we live towards the
unexpected
where I know that you will be
