Cold Nights Past
When we stepped through the door,
discovered it swung only one way:
Into the raising trash heat on
Queen and Alexander, I thought
Of the printed menus under glass,
outside our hometown’s Swiss restaurant,
How I did transgress,
the surveillance of city fathers
To slip between cherry trees,
take that rickety uphill ride,
drop metres down no more
in disgrace of arms and
Wind up tangled with you
bedsheets and boredom, missing the
starry tableau of clear Dominican skies,
Missing the clear head I had before
all the world, in gold, intruded.
Thoughts On Screen
When eyes become heavy with dreams,
I feel blood in all stitches
surrounding, the work of unseen
hands, advanced magic machines,
gas pedals and ship turbines:
They speak of waters deep,
rumours and rages half-buried,
they rush and recede in three-quarter time.
Holding tight, child in darkness,
arms wrap, entangle, a wire-nest
for flightless birds to dwell;
Reassured, face daylight,
turning over another set of
clock movement, counting until
again the covers can be pulled,
And the world vanishes, tragedies
invisible until morning.
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