Track no. 1

Sprinter
god that’s fast
is that a track?
or a sand swept up through
my back?
Fast splash
or your
eyes blue water
covering the floor
the track is
muddy and I can’t
run anymore and
suddenly I
can’t function because my
vision is obstructed by
your eyes
which is the sky
which is the air outside.

I have been coronated
into the breathing earth
by some mother-goddess
dripping in myrrh
and yet
the sand dunes
and forest greens
don’t quite see
that blue
I’m aching to spew
all over the
afternoon.

sipping sunday
through the pink straw
I stole
I feel a bit older
and stupid because
the sky is there
just mocking me,
might send me somewhere
it can’t afford to
fly to
and suddenly
it was all a rehashed parody
and I’m wet on the gym floor
and I’m shaking
and I’m asking you
why,
WHY,
WHY

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

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the  people on the ground,

heads bent,

un-phased

and unable to look at the ever reaching sky

 

“is it worth it?”

they ask,

 

“what,

i was just  little boy yesterday carrying my book bag,

the sun hanging deep and low over my brow

and my forehead stank of breath ad of  saltwater

tears, and–”

 

The shapes become all engrossing, so

i  find some

recluse

in an old painted book store

of who-knows where

 

suddenly

as i read a line from a silent ode he brushes against me and i don’t

know what is happening and suddenly he

is with me and suddenly he

is around me surrounding me and

the shouts of the street people seems to die in the

sound of his voice;

 

“ENTER MY MIND”

he says

(that’s a command)

“let’s

enter it

together

and  see

the glorious undertaking of you and me”

 

his eyes like seascapes

or sky-scapes

of piercing blue fantasies

as if

he was always

there

 

but with a rush of the train and the steam he’s gone

in the blink of an eye and a lash he’s gone

in the mood of a novel or book he is gone

and the slight inclination of head he is gone

 

and i lost that sky….

 

Now looking up to the expansive light

so much like his dazzling

unshakably passionate eye

i find myself on the street

like all the countless others,

among the thousands of women and children–i am just like them

and the whisper of giving up—i am one of them

and the shouts of the street

i am them.

 

love

seemed to pass me only as i was ready

in the fashion of

true bittersweet punishment;

i sat on a fountain and spilled coins from my pockets

and every wish was a wish for him.

 

 

now i am  holding him once more

and he surrounds and envelops the air

 

but this time i am dreaming it,

and this time the pavement seems all too hard

and the  spurs in the ground digging at my heels making them bleed

 

will you please

tell me

if i can even breathe

in this,

without at least some

well-deserved

exhilaration?

I think

in that case

i might just need

for you to feel

discovery

(but oh

it’s a pity i found the loveliest boy

In town

when he was just about

to wreck his vengeance

on me)

 

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry