Contours of Time

Years. Again I stand
here, `neath my Jasmine bush,
a witness mute,
to a throbbing `then'
a still-born `now',
those falling petals,
ruined and marvelous,
all at once.
I reach across
the in-between,and,
soft trace a shape,
an angular face,
a tenuous belief
made real.
A double take, and she,
the inside-shake
of my ruined heart,
raises half an eyelid,
beams and ,breaks
into spots and dust.
Infinity.

The Third Coming

You miss someone
in lands where once
spontaneity had a memory,
an echo of sameness,
a dark, delicious giving in .
It's an odd missing...for,
beyond all eternities,
you finally know
the meaning of forever .
And you miss someone,
 feel the welling, the stab,
in ocean eyes of loss,
your bit of grit, the only
pearl in your oyster.
It's an odd missing ,coz'
beyond all tears ,
smiling thru' mists ,you know
the meaning of now.
Between now and forever
pants the nomad ,
my wandering Oisin,
the climactic moment......

Razor's Edge

What you did
was not love
but a gesture
towards a dream,
a cautious stir
in the cauldron
of your rejections.
`Twas but a moan
from that funny ol' bone
of desire....rare gooseflesh
on the arms of routine.
Was nary a soft,
a soft reminder
of flattened grass,
of blushing fingertips
tracing tender paths.
Instead ,it was heard
as a stealthy slide,
a sibilant whisper
in soft conched ears
of sleeping innocence.
And I ,precarious ,
on the edge of choice,
pondered but a moment,
let go, and fell,
like gravity's apple,
on the head of need.....