Microcosm

Six o’clock hurts

There are rips in the future caused by leeches

Blood loss

No choice

Shropshire green is clouded - squares of smothering

without a voice

Nine o’clock lies

An invented reality and the scorn

removes some skin

She slows to stillness at triple speed - without

knowing who’s in

or out, or who

is in control

On the move

The beryl haul

The blue blossom

grows from seeds that appear implausibly small

At twelve o’clock

Her dance is a microcosm – bless it please

It’s encumbered

Vacuous

Muscles torn with shredded tendons

Steps are numbered

Fair chancellors

add matrices to the common or garden

Ideas with pores

Push

She’s not alone

Real dreams are fortified

Death on all fours

Devotion smiles

show the presence - the giver

Healing and there’s

Time wrapped in love

Searching Time with care

then emptiness withers

Just like unlove

and black roses

in deserts

One non-paradise and others

Now, in her life,

These lands are watered by a molten, bright eye

Hope’s springs are rife

Three o’clock wash

Protected by a mysterious hand, she

feels the punctures

Do we all self-inflict mistakes? To ruin

concrete pictures

Cleansing rainfall

Five o’clock focus – commands her brain signals

not to fragment

Living is easier that way - new paint gloss

Homes with intent

Homes that release

A call to love and the warm understandings

Angels are here

The invisible decorations of gold

are drawing near

New candles light without a light source – this is

fidelity