Dots
three reasons
not one of which i understand are running round the very room
two on its ceilings peering down
goodness sadness there within us every reach
and children bring it all in overwhelming ways
the last of which we make next sunday week
charity be my one and last more lay
and in the messy bedroom
darkness star you will sew the sheets
with beads of sweat and noise like
honking geese
to know the body looses flight
and with the angel of the seasons
sleeping deep in crystal snow drifts
i call upon the
gratefull of the night
stand up one last time
in the matter of the many pasts
we have one road and through its ambience
its red and orange vapours silouette the vapid mire
and long shaddows there are family
caste like trees looming big upon the hills and folds
encompass it in darkening
the little brakes and stony caverns not without their interest
are like the intruiges we might have said and done
if not for damn responsibilities
i will have your many dreaming kiss and voice that
resonates embossing on the inside
your pedantry and reasoned whim
that colours all my life its paint
and plantive wishes more than mystery bring vibrancy
and light into the corners of untidy lifes
and like my old lead soldiers bashed and glinting dull
we march like toys
but i wouldnt change it for the many other worlds