Snaking the coast

I sit pondering on the edge of the ocean under a black sky. The pregnant pink moon hung calling me like a moth or an urchin. Feet dangling off the cliff, suspended, floating. Cars high beam flash like liquid knifes through the sky, through me as I sit in the ether. The contrast is too perfect and I don't desire to fall, not yet. I hook my feet under the balustrade and continue snaking the coast.
The water watches.

Love Bites 2 - Cherry Lane

You know its good when you remember his face as you leave
From the alcove
Breath
Punters line the street
Released out into the smokey lane
After a night of rock
Hard rock
Smashed guitars
Sweaty dancing
Loud
His dark brown shoes
Legs smoothly crossed
My hair catching on his stubble
As we kiss
Laughing
What's your name
What isn't my name
I live between hemispheres
Now and
Next

Love Bites 1 - Golden Plain

I don't remember his name
I will only take a shadow of his face
I may not recognise him in a crowd
Tomorrow
But we dance tonight
In the sea of people
Impasto, Dali, textures, Frank Hurley, ultra marine
I demand them to be whispered
Nothing but sex
All sex
There's not enough contact in this world
With his arm wrapped around me
But I say not tonight
I say this with clarity
I say it calmly
Some confusion at my own response
I said not tonight
So he leaves and I linger
Dancing
But his image that he showed me
The one of the lighthouse
Four men pulling the oar through stormy waters under a churning white sky
Painted in oils

Is still wet

Blank

A white page can be daunting, as you sit and rattle around in the vacuum of your mind.
As I'm in all this blank matter I might as well go for a wonder. After a long walk I find a large cob web all dusty and grey with a back in 5 minute sign squeaking as it rocks from side to side.
A puff of dust blows across my feet.
I turn a sharp 45 degrees, venture on and notice splotchs of paint all overlapped and wet, just slapped together in a hurry hanging in mid air. If I where to psyhco analyse it (like a blot painting) I'd say it looked like a old bruised apple fallen from the tree, red, green and wrinkled, with a very small purple weasel trying to take it home in a mini yellow tractor. Wonder what that means? I'm hungry?
I turn again and look into the dark forever nothing that lays before me in the deep dark subconscious of my mind.
Spooky.
Picking up a stone I throw it into the abyss. A hollow clatter re sounds in the cavernous space. It just keeps on bouncing. Tink boing babing plonk pechow tinkly swish
OUCH!!!
I turned around to find the stone behind me. The bloody thing had come full circle and hit me in the back of my head!
Serves me right. I shouldn't aimlessly wander in my own head.

Mid morning the other day

I was driving between homes and the clouds where waking up late just like me. The mist must have been heavy last night as it was mid morning and the clouds where just getting up, like over slept teenagers or dopey old dogs.
The slowly rising vapour left a trace of it's path on the dew sodden webs all lit up by the mid morning sun. There where thousands of webs in the pine trees thickly clustered like fairy lights.
At a time of day that is usually blanched by the watery sun of winter this slow rising morning was at this moment surreal.


Crystal prisms hanging in the air.

Begin

me - 'What was it you said'
I looked at my navel. My navel looked up at me and smiled in that cheeky way, slightly bent and twisted. 'Do you remember the start of it all' my navel said back to me.
'The start of what?'
'You know, when we where connected'
'What?'
'Connected, you know, it was a bit of a tight fix in there'
'Oh you mean in the womb?'
'Duh, you know you can be very simple sometimes'
'There's no need to be offensive'
'But you can see things so simply'
'Waddayah meen?'
'Well, the simple perspective is we where just in the womb squished in together but if you think beyond that it's possible to imagine we where connected to every womb thats been connected to every navel. A never ending string, making a line of women, wombs and navels that goes on forever, back the to ocean'
'Wow, is that what you think about all day?'
'Well it's bloody dark in your pants and I need something to think about to block the discomfort of those belts you decide to wear'
'Sorry'
'It also reminds me if the very rare times I come out in the open when you swim'
'In the ocean?'
'I dream of the ocean'
'Hot summer days, cool ocean'
'I glide under you as you dive'
'Mmmmm the ocean'
'Where we came from'
My navel smiled up at me in that knowing way, slightly bent and twisted.