The Geranium Hotel Poems

You couldn’t have placed it The nagging feeling pulling at your heart Your life became broken up The tone continued to ring within your ears That was the 1950’s God was real My words will not swarm at you My eyes will not hold you there Paris is not a work of art As San Francisco is not copulation Over breakfast I was surprised You held back Preferring to count the seeds in the jam The future wasn’t made from that moment, no But it felt like everything was building to it That was the 1950’s You were real As the water hit against your face I shuddered, words clearing my head It’s such a long road with the length of the world Sunrise to sunrise Seed to seed God became a word to scatter To fertilise and watch grow Paris becomes art San Francisco is union I’m not here to communicate with you To throw words at you You will hold back regardless History has built up to this point And it need not explain That was th

You could see a reflection in the glass Just for an instant it was there You haven’t slept for days ‘It was him, in front of all the books, it was a flash’ A big boat In the rain Filling with water Sailing out into the horizon and sinking into the ocean All the time in the world We will spend it fighting Fighting and dancing Reach up Up and out The higher we reach the closer to the dream of Patti Smith we get to Geraniums represent friendship and folly No they don’t they represent me, I am the Geranium of this house The Geranium Boy who goes out to burn tall buildings Why do so many of your bones creak when you move? Is it because you constantly try to turn into a Eucalyptus tree? Keeping your eyes to the sky for two Magpies Which direction did you come from? Does it matter? We all fall south and we all move north, Crescents and Obelisks are forever on my mind A boy called Leigh I was 24 years old I had neve