The Geranium Hotel Poems

You can save strangers with whispers But then you always saved what you could You dug great holes, smashing rocks with a touch But then the earth was always yours-  A Congregation of thousands, centred on you. You started wars with your poetry, written on an island But then words were always your lovers You resurrected the dead with your blossoming orchards But then the roots reached deep, calling for the old A Congregation of thousands, centred on you. You screamed away clouds, called to you storms But then you always did hold fast in the rain You taught wild horses to bow and play tricks with the light But then you liked to see the kingdoms collide against nature  A Congregation of thousands, centred on you. You burnt down whole cities with a lick of your tongue But then you did like to watch smoke turn into sky You invented light for the day and music for the light But then you added people for the gods and gods for the people A Con

The light fades But then someone else's light will be peaking And a train crash was right on time Leaving was different this time The tallest building in town has difficulty capturing attention There are no birds to roost on the sills Concrete stones rest down by the elevator Aboriginals walk past with smiles and suits What is the matter at hand, what are we stopping at? The date is someone famous's birthday We light a fire and listen to the rain over the bridge I know there is no money for travel this year Travel up and through the distortion, with the little birds It's been twenty years since Rwanda, one since the end I decided to kick at the announcement Decided to sit upon the large square ashtray The last monument of the city's centre Back to Back, looking up, looking across Cigarettes, on our favourite solitary horizon The court house, alone, walking to the botanic garden Fences to burn, to jump, to build Drive while sleeping, hear music, i

When it gets too bright We will steal some dark sunglasses Put on our white collared shirts And you can quote Rimbaud "Par les soirs bleus d'été, j'irai dans les sentiers, Picoté par les blés, fouler l'herbe menue : Rêveur, j'en sentirai la fraîcheur à mes pieds. Je laisserai le vent baigner ma tête nue." We can look at the sky and watch the birds Kick the red dirt on the road Our shadows will invoke the night The ocean will freeze with our whispers and conversation The clouds will curl and sour When they hear our songs, our poems Spoken from the reddest and plumpest of lips Thrown at each other's bosoms, thrown high, caught low Words that shall blanket us in grey Words that shall cover us in sweet love  Words that shall feed us and keep us running away, together Words that shall embed our age, with memory ever lasting Poems of deep emotion, lying in the sand Words of freedom, moving in our palms Thoughts

I can't move I'm all broken, all spilt I write you letters to let you know I haven't died The heaven is hot so I guess its close to hell The door swings against the wind I've got your dress as a pillow and your watch as a drum beat The sky is a universe and it waits for us It is grey like you, like your concrete words I know it's not naked I know it is not a film I know what I can do- here I know when it is, now I can't move my back is all broken My fan's will betray me for yours I'm all broken, all spilt Munich sails to the moon Dug out with machinery Zeppelins carry London preserving it in space I am remembering you In my home, on my bed Can you see me in daytime flashes? Can you block out the real life with old deja vu? The humming is merely an audience not yet gathered Somewhere they are selling a tower for a price we can't name I can't move, I'm steel, I'm concrete Is it raining where you lay?