Tag Archives: men

Without Armour

A tin soldier lies in my bed, the last man standing

On a crusade; Denying flesh and blood,

But if f I am white then he is red.

I throw down-duvet over, not to divide,

I creep under as well, it is a cold night and

The boiler is bust but we are two.

Muscles are what he claims to be,

Well, at least it is better than steel

And I still drink that smell of sweat.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Big houses with big yards

Dark waters of heavens
cringed by fog.
No sound no whisper
no secret snog.

Big collections with big meanings,
dark alleys, suffocating smog,
no wind, no weathercock,
no hidden song.

Big men with big visions,
light memories of childhood
reduced en vogue.
No garden, no Eden.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

A Recipe for Drying

Manly apricot with scars
Stuck in mortal manor
Lost in carnal land, him
Amorphous muse serenades
Through window left ajar:

Scrub, peel, lick and scald
Twelve apricots and beat them fine.
In a mortar put to them
Six ounces of sugar and a pint
Of musky scalding cream.

Manly Armenian plum,
Early ripening peach
There sings a muse for each
Twelve of these abrecocks.
They are flocking out
To bind them up
To dangle in sunny places.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,