At last
Some night and timeless walks
through five and two a.m
in shots they walk, inebriated ruski
through windows
girls staring out
blue moon sky and orion’s belt.
The sunlit interior of the mind
I call him up,
Angel Blake and Swendenborg;s Trine
The starry night, and the tropic I had
that coffee pot drunken
bonfire missed
I’m glad the heavens are where they are
Full Messier objects and my heart too
where that sequence of stars arranges much
My eye is glad for the globular vluster.
Over my head, a maniac sleeps
and I have been through hell and back
with him now unenjoying his bliss
on winter’s ever
a bonfire kiss
Two girls together holding hands
forged in time, people and
the last hello and goodbye and then
internet proclivities again.
I shore this bridge
I make this cup
I define the limits of what is and is not
With reason, folly.
With joy, bliss.
There is a mystery to this
yes, there is.
Sat opem starlight in the eye
a window’s transparency
and photographer’s finery
a girl walking
a man pulling up in a car
parking at three a.m
Midnight watchdogs
and Orion’s tower
as we forgave them, so they did us a favour
as well/ Time’s immorality
and space
is no more than a glitch in the eye of grace!
All forgiven and fortold.
We accept imperfection, craters
untold words and thresholds.
The fractal imperfection that repeats
the secret again and again given quickly.
Do you see?
23/09/82
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