These Ghosts

A rippling wall lets me know I’m alive
when the lights come on and there’s no one inside

The carpet stains scream for countless days
and I dream of a wash in innumerable ways

You sit up and take notes
amid the voles and the stoats

With your withering eyes
that offer no hint of surprise

Creak more wood now I’m listening
steam the windows ‘til they’re glistening

Mine my heart

Mine my heart with your shovel
and pickaxe with no word spoken
for what seems like days. Drag
yourself away and be that man
you deserve to be. Be a ghost if
you like, I’ll lay here and wait.
Hand me a smoke and wait
til it’s burned away, hand me a
whisky and show me how to
play these ivory keys while we
sway. The drum roll. It excites
to crescendo. Then you’re gone.
Silence rockets and this taste
is inhumane. Mine my heart
and say what you say. You’ll
be gone in the morning and I
prefer it this way.

Celluloid

It whines as it whirs
and keeps me awake

I glow in the dark
at the pictures it takes

me to again and again;
my soulmate, my friend.

Pulsate like a dreamscape
that happened before

Sit tight and unwind
but keep feet on the floor.

The violin is a wonder,
and so is the cello

Be lost in the clattering aroma,
my wonderful fellow.