In The Aftermath Of Your Ashes To Ashes In the aftermath of your ashes to ashes The fantasy billows of clouds are all allure To a soundtrack of lanterns on the lake. I feel aware of the texture of each piece of air; My senses Curve, Majestically poignant and fleeting. "they were here first" Where do I call home? You are The dust in the urn- In the turn- That's everything. I feel soft imprints of memory, And a retrospect I have never known In the aftermath of your ashes to ashes. I don't know what I'm doing. Everything raises my gorge- In the most spectacular way- I am full of #life, Bubbling out of my lungs- I can do anything I want With my infinite mind touched by no earthly rain- I am here, on soft brown earth- With the memory of your hand, Mine, So strong in my mind. And then it passes. I am, once more, Totally, totally alone amongst you.

Ash Warmth feeding warmth Cold fingerprints in the delicate condensation Tracing faces and absent cares On the glass of beer before me. The soft keening caresses of old familiar stories Told from old familiar mouths. I missed you so much, old friends. It all lingers there, in my mind, Teetering on the edge of boundless insanity- But you, your arms, your boughs, your laughter- It drives it away with Lukewarm beer And memories. Do you remember the time- of course. How could I forget? A bold sense of easy time In easy company A scrubbed table, and embers of secret flames in forgotten glances; I remember that kindled fire of near-passion, And our midnight words- Dare-to-speak- on promised love. A soft backdrop of old familiar songs "butchered" Don't make me laugh- I won't stop. You are (And I think always will be) My safe harbour lights.

Neutrality- Smokey cape shrouds the mountains, drifting through rows of dimly silhouetted trees, rising. Mountains and mountains and mountains thick and sprawling with dark green and with hard sheaths of rock. Sheer cliffs. I cannot see the tips of the hills for gods mist. These roads snake and slice the rough warm earth as we course, too slow, along them. Past houses, storybook roofs sparse and so in and out of place in this vast genevian landscape. Rays catching, falling, spilling over the crest of a great green mountain crest. Blue misty shadows shape the clear sky in the evening light in the valley that seems to me to touch eternity. I understand why one would chose to discover the god particle here. Over the crest rises a brighter mountain, blasted pale rock. Now descending the hill, great walls of scattered community in thick rock nesting, couched, amongst the green mysterious trees.

Earthly The air is slow and close The usual cool evening blush is heavy. (Further weights upon our shoulders). The peal of bells- Wedding, at this hour- Or maybe marking of that, I am not sure. There are full brick chimneys scoring the sky- I never noticed before- Scoring the sky like bright, bright gashes. I return to the question of that day (my 2000th new thought) Where does this nature end and our constructive enterprise begin, Melding of the planted trees and smog-charred sky? I walk on earth (on slabs above it) And I am fired and shot through with thoughts that stifle me, Moulded by my own chosen society. Her face jerks my vision And Love too is manufactured To some degree? Building our own inner walls to smash, I realise I am a brick in their church. Where do we go now?

London-grey Sky The rain has passed and I am walking, turmoil, Under this London-grey sky. Snatches of blue pass through a flecked canopy of endless refraction. I am walking Alone, but surrounded And the shrieks of soaking garments Have passed. I am walking And I am here, but so far from concentrating My mind is on the mundane. Stay here I plead stay here, under this roof fretted with golden fire (as they say) And to see One glass of wine down, walking on, ceaselessly beat back into the current of ease. Moments of lucidity Broken By this utter conviction The sky is crumbling, tumbling, Splintering at the sound of fractures of mind. I am walking I can do no more Clinging to the thin surface of the earth Hurtling Whirling Visceral gasses of space burning Consumed in pitiless stars around As I am walking under this London-grey sky.