From kingdom come
What better art is here now Summers\' fruits
Hibernate with the black swans
In a pocket full of photographs
With a slice of cheese
And a bookmark for the fuchia\'s never read.
Wild flower roots in a breakfast bowl
Each morning falls a darker shade
Of Olive trees lime green and breathing still.
No time to crawl now the frost has capped my ears
Tapped my eyes with rabbits blood
Traded me for a compass-point and quill.
I am two miles shy of where I cannot be.
My collar turned and whiter
Than the secrets you possess
That dared caress my eyelids
The second time we met.
It was the freckles on your pillow
Taking root in the marrows heart
With eyes as sad as a wet September day.
I have found again my walnut tree
Deep beneath a forest
Full of buttercups and orange tambourines.
Singing for my supper
Through a slot-machine with the eyebrows of a goat.
From kingdom come
To the floating bridge
On a never ending sea of tempered leaves;