Walking in the dark

Walking under street lamps
Light to his inner broil
Abscence of work is toil
No direction

He doubts each breath he takes
Shadows shrink and get bent
The dance of discontent
Passion nowhere

City fox strikes a path
In the past friendships led
For the people he bled
No plans for self

Too much on another
Owl, wolf, tree still mortal
Death a one-way portal
His own waiting

Crescent moon rests obscured
His faith on shifting ground
Still located around

Like the lamps and the moon
He must find his own light
An inner hunger bright
Yet still borrowed

Who generates passion?
What star shines on and on?
Love when the heat is gone
Live for each other

The weight of a pint

Tom cat, wild city cat
He is a self-confessed Bedraggled East End Fox
Always free
Supports Chelsea
Loves trump
And doesn’t sleep at night
The pain of a confusing world keeps him up
His head and heart ache for all the ill and the sad and the suffering
Those beyond healing.
It is why he goes to church
And why he is drinking now
With me
At the bar of a lonely pub
Both of us alone, until he enlisted me to keep eyes on his bag.

He has suffered
The hurt of this hard world written onto his leathered face
I don’t need to guess because he is immediately open
And he’s been about
Like a cat, like a fox
Learning on his way
He can talk, boy he can talk
He can listen too
I feel I can tell him anything
Tough kindness
Transmitted from deeply dark uncluttered eyes
Fierce and quick
As we share a pint
More love present than pleasantries permit.
We have cheered up his birthday
55 today and it is too old
He is still feeling great but feels a decay has set in
Soon the body will give up
Like so many of his friends no longer with us
At the end of a pint
When I go to say goodbye
He hugs boldly
The hug creates more softness
From that intimate position he tells my left ear how
He never gets to nature to decompress
A life of driving buses
Looking after the public his mission
Though he is thinking of packing it in
Still in that boozy embrace
Strong and loud
He promises to come to Bristol
Asks the name of my local
And that is enough


Moon in orbit

Staring at the full moon
The last of a decade
Grateful eyes on a steady truth

It is the night before the election

Under the patient pearl of the moon
I am pacing and shaking
I have all sorts in me
All kinds of gravity

Hoping for the conviction to hope
The bravery to hope for something
I hope I have it
What a privilege this vague sentiment is
I have not done enough for those
that consider hope a luxury or a necessity
Instead of a plaything

Holding everyone I have ever known
somehow in time and space
Every moment of eye contact
Every conversation
Every stumbled exchange
Under the milk of the moon
The sum of every person’s kindness
culminates and converges in unity
In moments of compassion and clarity

Scared that all this is just words
Next to cold practical considerations
of getting through life
Next to the bitter confusions of conflicting facts
And the anonymity of the non-gaze
of that puckered lunar rock in the endless sky  

So much pain and suffering in the world
Now is there more or is it less than before
Is that even the question

More people
More potential
More strain
We are a strain of something more

something larger

An effervescent  
heart in a body responding to the moon

something vital is trying to gain traction

The line is moving

Sat between grasping chaos and great potential
One side despair the other a brightening light
Indifference the broker for a careless evil
The line is thin
the line is brittle

the line is not straight
For one moment in time
A complex whole transmuted into a binary choice
The line is precious
the line is moving

To the magicians who desire a better world
Who create and toil
Who show up for it
Knock on the door for it
See dots
and connect them
Sweating to fuse them together
in the uncertainty of forging heat
Trusting in a larger frame
To all those who think beyond themselves
The line is precious
The line is moving


This heart

Grieving this world in slow motion
The ring pull of my heart pulled back
Contents at risk
of being emptied
Poured out in desperation

Open raw to the wind
This mythic organ swirls and tumbles
Dives between tipping points
Beating in squirming longing
On the axis of a unified vision