I want to lay in that golden sun
Beneath galaxies open and
Time undone
Paris
He was drinking as he told me
Never lose sense of belonging
In your own life
I am not sure where it started
But my thoughts became uncharted
Miseries
He topped up his cup of tea
And asked if I had ever seen
Paris
Still Wanting
She told me of the wanting
Running through her veins
That she was always chasing
Yet trying to escape
Whatever was made smaller
Cheaper, better, in grey
She had to have more,
More, more and another
For the days when it might rain
She has but time for work and wanting
Amid the necessities of the day
The food to be got and eaten
The one appointment that cannot wait
She told me that she wondered
If the wanting might go away
If she could be a child
Or at least live that way
It seemed that she remembered
Many far-off days
When she had felt other than wanting
As she wandered and she played
And I wondered, if we were children
Would there be less buying and less waste
Or would there be piles of discarded toys
Instead of shirts and phones and paint
Downward sailing
Aching, breaking
Under the crow’s caw spell
Mountains still empty
Woods that won’t tell
No serenity waiting
At the top of the pass
A world feverish and crowded
Where the last shall be last
In exchange
I would rather you
Than the worlds I sought
If only you pardon
My yearning
Timeless
She spans the river winding, she
Is buttress and octave
She tells you of passions that
You knew in another age
Quiet nights
When the cars have gone to bed
We can glide through the night
Talking over bridges as if
We were side by side
But the road lies between us
And these pairs of wheels
Still there is your laughter
Sailing to my ear
With you
Give me not a hundred kisses but the one
That is nothing I have never breathed before
Ours is the laughter between sheets undone
And made again
Give me not a hundred years but the ones
That I have never lived before, with you
And put off the rise and fall of suns
That go alone
Never quite enough
Some days she was a beauty
A little artificial, a little sly;
Just sly enough to read
What no one wanted to say
And to sit through stories
Of prophets and kings
With a glimmer simmering
In her eye
We used to have all the time
Tomorrow does not bring
The things I ask for
I cannot let myself expand
With you; I’ll only miss this more
Tomorrow
Serial Outlet 