Behind Mountains, Before
Sea
There is a city somewhere, framed by
mountains, capped with snow the texture of icing, of melted swan
feathers or heavy-laden clouds, with skies that burn pink and nights
that shine blue, with bells that chime into dusk, hills that sprout
cactus, caves built into the earth, and an ancient fortress that
defies the tides of time, standing there amidst shores of glittering
modernity, the very proof that time flows back and forth – concrete
evidence that history lies within us – what came before, runs back
twofold – what stood, still stands – what falls, will rise again.
So, this is what we call progress –
from the Mirador we see the stretch of lights inching towards that
towering ancient structure – lanes of traffic fluctuate, moving
back and forth, this way and that - swirling city life creeping up on
the sleeping steady stillness of centuries past - time travel made
visible.
And all around, smooth, rolling hills.
Behind them, the faint sense of the sea, and beyond, somewhere, the
desert, the edge, the skirt hem of the continent – that fluid space
between a lace rim and the dusty earth.
After years of inhabitants and
influence, the land has been corrupted with the spillage and overflow
of magic - without reason, without intention, the earth glimmers with
the memory of spells and wishes and curses and songs – of
manifestations, prayers, prostrations – the symphony of voices
calling out, that one chorus.
And here we are, in this particular
aftermath, this particular moment.
And that is why, in this city of sweet
jewels, where the mix of spice and gristle and wine hums with playful
contradiction, there is no such thing as luck or coincidence, only
strategy in this big game. This is the place where paths cross, where
fates are handed over on silver platters, hung from branches ripe and
dangling, and up to you, if you dismiss it all as folly, without
recognition these signs sink back into the material, become empty
objects in this museum of reality – but! If you are awake and
forever reading, your inklings will blossom into view – the gaps
are filled, matches struck.
Softly, softly, even the wildest
pockets jangle with ease.
The city sighs:
Wails of conflict, battle cries.
Deep laughter made scratchy with
cigarettes.
A thousand strings plucked into the
night.
Claps – of hands, hooves, lightning.
_____________________________________________________
The Beginning, The End,
The Beginning
I dream of you in hotel rooms
your face
clouded by assumptions.
Is this the process
I'm destined to realise -
the beginning, the dawn,
and the end?
This natural womb-flow
of life and death
and all the sticky sweetness
in between.
Cold wrapped around,
elbowing past layers.
Each day a world in itself
leading on to the next.
Cloth wrapped around your head,
the dust settling
in the crevice of your ear.
Your scarf around my neck.
My breath,
hot and stale in the morning.
The squeeze and tinker
of the percolator -
and what is this taste of
petrol and cloves?
Questing,
requesting.
You are me,
she says,
and with tears in their eyes
they greet each other like old friends.
Commit,
fly away,
to this petri dish of blossoms.
Time Travel
As I travel through time
moments arise -
I fish them out
gut them
line up the bones.
In this dining hall
echoing rooms beckon -
if I'm not careful
they'll lock me behind
while I'm busy arm-wrestling
and spitting in palms.
Midnight promises
riding past like bandits
lit up by moon.
_____________________________________________________
The More I Smell Roses
The more I smell roses
eat grapes
tread forests
the more I know
that this is home
Have faith in love
Have faith in my love
These mantras like
metronomes
ticking me
This is my life now
a dreamscape
where I dance in
caves
POWER in my ears
the sky flittered
with
expansive clouds
baby dove wings
blessings
and the mountains
the sun
all one
the earth dusty and
loose
and I move
punch – kick –
channel
this love
this prayer
Moments tied
together in matrimony
I never thought I
could believe in marriage
let alone a love
that transcends galaxies and time
let alone,
no more
_____________________________________________________
Fortress
We sit in silence
as sweet
as rice pudding
the sun setting
sultry and thick
That skyline
that midnight blue
blending
into red into peach
into smoke
These elements -
that ancient
fortress
These elements -
the hills of
Albaicin
Silhouettes -
the tops of
churches
bells cradling
dusk
frozen hands,
beer sipped from
clay cups
the bubbles thaw
in an instant
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