cream tea

 

I am susceptible to admission,

but on nothing of my will has happened in this.

 

I am

innocent and barren of all other percussions. After all, he’s the drummer

don’t you

know he rallied for me?  He raised this smoky spirit,

called it forth in pixels and haze…  but of me, there is

nothing, my hands are empty, i can only give what i have

gotten.   the universe heard you, and sent you me. 

 

I am

not by far the most adept, but the universe seemed to think

i would

suit the need and the moment and the crawl of

static up your legs. electric you, electric me.  you see, a

man in a wimple white robe lighting your room at night

would only produce fear and doubt – in the morning light

 

you would

try to disbelieve the vision.  if the pond showed

you a

different face other than yours in the springtime

melt you would scarce be able to conceal your experience and

end up derailed and compromised by those you told.  but

here! ah here!  on these copper and glass cables, i roam

and fly, i glide to your questions and all you can tell

 

there is

there’s this weird guy, i chat to by email

and…. well,

you get the rest by now, i am sure.

 

 

 

I screamed and CRIED…..

 

to wake my self to consciousness

i was having a dream about a lover coming and sweeping me off my feet

not video boy

not coffee boy

not the dark one

not the amalgam….

a lover coming and sweeping off my feet by

adoring me and bathing me

and brushing my long, auburn hair

by holding me and nurturing me and then

it hit me

 

i can sabotage a relationship over a cup of earl grey