Dreams of you I dream of you - I lie awake; my thoughts caught out like stagnant ripples in a pool of old and polished wood and (summer moments; beads of sweat upon your skin, your arms and brow and thighs and on that tender wishbone field of lust and) I dream of you - I lie awake, now locked like falling rain inside the lizard sweep of yellow head-lights, half-mesmerised by this triumvirate of all surrounding wisshh wisshh sounds of rubber, rain and asphalt and (the smell of fresh, cut grass and bits of goblin caught between the blades: A meaty, leaf-root taste of lazy evenings. Hints of sweat and fur and swollen moons now waiting to come down through moments of lost clouds and white and ghosts and all half-murmured expectations - holding bits of you upon my tongue and) I dream of you - I lie awake. The sleepy, summer evening sound of crickets hidden in the dark spills from the old projector room where reels of Chaplin, reels of Bogart, reels of laughter and goodbyes lie waiting, waiting for that first and tiger yellow burst of brittle light that reaches, finds and captures a million particles of dust now held like promises of other worlds and strange farewells and even stranger Gods and (the silver ghosts of ice-cream vans, the children safely locked inside our ageing flesh - my skin, your solid bones become the kite that soars: a dragon wing and all of you and all of me like sparks ascending, like the moon caught in some summer dream of silver rivers slowly moving through the fields of night.)
Posted on: Tue, 15 Jul 2014 03:09:40 +0000
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