blink

a room ringed with braille
a ceiling of hallucinations
fours storms approaching
from each corner

a memory cached in
timelapse
between
two distracted fingers
skin that moves against itself
blind to its own touch.

paris sous les bombes

floating barefoot
on a sea of driftwood
i made a promise to myself
to sell my shares
and donate
the money to charity.

there were wild horses
frolicking
with women
in white bikinis
on the shores of an ocean
that glittered like my rolex.

we could almost hear music
beneath the hum of
the generator,
you bought yourself
a set of tannoy speakers
so you could amplify
your prayers
across the beach.

the colour you turn before you wake

by dawn
there was nothing left
but the highway
and the sea.

we had abandoned the thin
wall and the roadside
karaoke
washed up against a desperate
ocean many hours ago

on that cold road
i felt the hot breath
of a mexican woman
whispering in my ear:

i can always tell
where a man is going,
by where he's been.

summon

that night was the first time
we had seen rain for
thirteen years

the people knew at once that
some kind of special ceremony
had been performed

the flocks of white birds
lacing the clouds
as they circled overhead

the ebb of dark music
on the wind,
moving through air
like insence might

seemed to suggest
that something
foreign
had been summoned.

***

the ball of your palm
over my eyelids
keeps me guessing
for a whole five minutes
as to what is about
to happen next.

you tell me that
all sound
comes from silence
and
all sound
returns to silence.

my lips part softly
as you speak
i can almost taste
those quiet, desperate
words.

***

we slept flat
like sheets of rice paper
beneath a sky so full
it looked as if it might
take flight
and take us with it.

no longer in japan
we dreamt of fabric
soft enough to cushion
our desires

in our minds
strolled through markets
in downtown kyoto

searching for the perfect
kimino
to cocoon ourselves within.