Crowded Faces

Strange faces struggle noisily in the park.
A valley necked into the trees
The crawlers cuddled far behind the earth.
I nudged and raised my frowns to the sun.
I burrowed my head into the open bus.
The earth received me at the centre.
Where earth stretched into oblivion.
I was alone in the dark, backing the void.

Strangers milled around me.
Strangers in the bus
Strangers by the windows
Strangers in the park.
I burrowed my face in the book

A mist appeared
I wiped my eyes
Another face appeared fading and shaping again.
I wiped my eyes.
I thought of Anyi
But it faded into Billy
Then into the sun.

The earth threw me into its face.
Into the park.
Another face passed by
But this face I knew.

I am torn between faces.
A rascal appeared in the mist.
A distraught one explained past things
I, myself, I looked into the oblivion.
Into strange faces.
 
A mist appeared
I wiped my eyes
Another face appeared fading and shaping again.
I wiped my eyes.
I thought of Anyi

The magic of the white sand

I read your verse and wished it were spring on fool's day.
But this August disembowelled.
What was it that reeled your heart?
The broken lament of the sisters, and the cackle in the night.
The dumb girl breaking her bones
The bleeding cloth before the needle?

I read your verse and wished I were holding your breasts
But it was dry like the wretched of this earth
Do you remember the lines you caressed round the broken pot?
The song of the great world.
The great trek round the world

Do you remember the great silence of the eighth world?
They conspired and labelled you
They cooked your head and ravished you

They sang of you flew in the wind

But what was the magic of the white sand?
A wailin the in the cross
What was the water in the tree?
A lyrical verse
But this is August disembowelled.

That searing hot night
A fairy procession of the three yellow girls wearing silk and incense
Stood before you, before the bell tower
They raped you that night at bell tower
They chanted their gory songs and prayers that night at bell tower
They roped you to the cross standing on white sand
They rolled you to the great world
And sent you on the great trek to the great world.

Tell me what did the sirens sing in August?
Of broken pot bellies in spring
Laments and orgies
surgeries and tunnels
But what is the magic of the white sand?

Evelyn

The gentle breeze rustled the tenderness of your hair
It fluttered around my face with its sensation
I love the cascading cadence
 as it falls
down to the deep hollow of your back,
...and gather together like horse wisk.

I love its gentle golden glow
as it casts to life
the bright beauty of the sun.

But let me touch this gentle hair
and partake in the assemblage of God's scattered beauty.