flat.fish.flesh

You ain’t gonna find love like that,
by looking in the wrong places.
Damp and horrid morning slowly
aches for unknown faces.

Skirting flooded city gutter
full to brim with suited gent,
all ground down to gritty grime that
floats about the grey pavement.

One tree in the fields came right down in a storm.
We clambered all over it’s face and it’s form.
Laid up on it’s end for an age with the cows
and all of us kids hanging down from it’s boughs.

A hide out or castle, a fort for the boys,
shelter from rainy days playing with toys.
This relic descending to dirt and to dust.
Another place distant, out of reach, just.

A temple divine where we’d gather and play
then parts got all sawn up and carted away.
Throughout all of this it continued to grow,
to push out some green leaf that falls with the snow.

So slowly it turned into table or chair
to be cherished and coverted equally where
memory minds you of long ago town
or places much deeper and further on down.

‘Course later came fire and destroyed it to death
that allowed it to drift into river and breath.
Mineral forms each pervading the loam,
root becomes shoot beneath shining blue dome.

He’s doing that big booty, skinny leg and hoping, goose step, in deliberately provocative straight lines, too & fro, right there in front of this bench. Damn annoying in this cold weather.

I have finally found a thing I can’t find
& I’ve sought high and low for stuff of it’s kind.
Went searching for summer, discovered it fine,
and I bump into rock stars, film Gods, all the time.

So it must’ve been fantasy thought that I had
that made me trust our town could give all it had,
for this thing’s too fancy to palm from the start
because London folk never took it to heart.

A plucking of the human chord
is tinted by one hundred tones,
each strung out on another strummer’s
picking of a playful air.

Winter winks at night, it follows
drums well beaten into pathways,
grabs the chance to lead one wayward,
taunts too tempting to turn down.

Skins get rhythm from the down beat,
beat the syncopating dance beat,
beat the world between the footstep fall
and every coming heart break.

Smile condenses on cold lenses,
wipes the window free from frosted
glance that taints this evening’s glasses,
half light hints so hard to hide.

See this season’s city shining.
Stretch yourself out from today.
A light once lit does only burn on.
Let some lyric line the lane.

Gritday breaks, must spurn it’s calling,
keep your eyes still darting, yawning,
half veiled invitation, greeting,
lusting on to that new meeting.

You eternal yin yang emblem,
writhing joyously through space,
such a loving twist between them,
tightly bound into the race.

Ancient serpents tails are chasing,
see how follows each from each,
slippy sipping, salty tasting,
breakers dash along the beach.

Darling beast that bends with arched back.
What a carnival of sport!
How is this knotted thing? It not lack
loss? How is it never caught?

Urgent wrestlers crawling crab-wise,
on fresh sands, beneath the sheet.
There their tangled limbs & low sighs
rise and fall with each heart beat.

Contorted spiral, whole that love makes,
climbs to reach the final O.
Easy now, a gentle wave breaks,
slowing ebbing off to go.

It’s not the sort of mark that reddens
arses seated long on benches.

Not a healed up scar on forehead,
shattered glass let bleed and glisten.

Might be a thing we couldn’t challenge,
& so spent many hours thinking.

It was a party you took part in,
dressed to gain all our attention.

It is a strength of certain loving,
rejection of your doubting brothers.

It will not let me go forgetting
any of these tendernesses.

This shade of blue cannot be sad.
It’s just the other side of glad.
Neither dull nor dumbness be,
It’s as bright a hue as love can see.

Such tears that grow from strength to strength,
Mark joy & smiles & love at length,
Not shed for some old dreary thing.
It shines and stays continuing.

Wreckless Ruth writes and ripens really raucous records.