you are important in an office far away
lanyard noosed – a four cornered
copy of yourself .laminated to last.
you can wipe this version of yourself clean, lucky boy lucky boy
in your apartment of jarred pasta sauces and video games
a timemachine bides time without whining -
your buttonfaced creation: watching
as you capture kingdoms with overused thumbs
you are so very clever with your knowledge of mathematical things
you have a mind full up of complicated equations
and a niggling worry about the globs of solder on your
beige stained carpet
.
.
.
To me, darkrunning th ink ing, these
globs are all stars – lluminated
by kisSes and the
smooothness of
cobbles.
solderbeads turn
to silver gypsy charms
mingling to tinkle a secret
solder-glob sonata.
they slyly pinch nail-crescents up your soft-spine,
sparkling sopranos spurning lazy lovers in the eggfaced dark.
this is what i see
.
.
you see solder on your carpet which may or
may not
be covered by your comprehensive insurance cover
and i
dryeyed
file you with a mild-smile
under L
a timemachine can not work by numbers alone
You have reached a new height in your poetry. Releasing yourself into splendour. You know I am not prone to hyperbole or superlatives but these last two poems are so complete and so clear in their vision and still with your unique songlike voice. I am awestruck.
No it can’t… numbers alone and words alone … sometimes it needs a pinch of something more to make it real? Look at me so wistful… agh Ebby… your writing is a dream.