Starfish

It’s late

The tap tap

 Buzz buzz

Ephemeral

 Rote

    

I’ve said these words before

  Time again

But still

The empty space

  On the right

Weighs heavy

  In abstenia

Your ghost substantial

  Still walks dreams

Not haunted

 Lost by my design

But still

It’s late

And I’m tired

Little boy blue

Little boy blue,

 Learn to blow your own horn

Don’t be a hoe on sheeps meadow,

 Relying on cows for their corn.

Be strong for yourself

 Earn your own keep

But if you insist on

  Laying with cows

Take care of yourself

  and put aside my keys

And where is this boy that’s so afraid

 Of self and kin?

He’s asleep – having convinced himself

 Aesthetics matter most

Will you wake him? No, not I,

 For when I tried he surely cried.

3 2 1

I was always told that I was Third.
Behind ineffable,
      inscrutable,
                                         then me!

But it seems to me
                           now
That is a silly way to be.

For if not                                  me!
then
    there is no we

We being me and you
       who do those things we do
when all will see we—that
    we—are you and                  me!

but us        us is another story

May Day

Beltane burns

   half from Spring.

The house is quiet now

  the fire died.

Strong proud mother sits silent watching

  One of her embers fading.

Badges on apps untapped

  smouldering ephemera. 

Beltane burns

  half to Summer.

Routine replaces revolution

  flaming the fans.

Heartbreak my companion

  Coal its avatar.

Hope and meaning entwined

  wick trimmed - steady.