Streams And Mirrors

LUV[sic]

luv is hard
           in the eye a clouding
           of the lens leading
to a decrease
   a dip in a misty pool
            usual onset: gradual
luv is trouble
   sleeping at night
   with bright lights
   halos surrounding lights
luv is complications:
   falling, depression,
   blindness
luv is trauma
luv is ageing
luv is radiation exposure
 a risk factor prolonged
       exposure 
               prolonged
       exposure to sunlight alcohol
luv is trouble
    driving, reading, or recognising
             faces clumps of protein
 remove the clouds and replace
                 with artifice 
the only effective treatment
luv is causing problems
luv is not
    readily available
luv is especially true
for women
         those living in rural areas
and those who do not know how
  to read
luv is usually complaining
  of glare
luv is degrading
   and denaturing over time
acceleration: the environment
              toxins, radiation, ultraviolet lights
luv is trauma 
    swelling, thickening, a whitening
  of the fibres
    swelling then whitening
                obstructing
        light from reaching
luv is an electrical injury
luv is blunt
a change in heat, the mechanism
    is unclear
direct damage from pressure
                   waves
luv is the aqueous humour
luv is slippery
    electric and heat
    denature and whiten
luv is cooking an egg
    making the clear albumen
    become white and opaque
luv is a glassblower
  a furnace
              worker
luv is a laser
       known to damage the eyes
and skin
    skinning, deskinning, a peeling
  a ripening of the lens
luv is a trend
in some developed countries
which may lead to disappointing results
               the eye is numbed
       ultrasonic energy
luv is emulsifying
  paralysis of the eye muscles
       to break up
and emulsify to liquid 
   from ultrasound waves
       the soft outer layer sucked
away or aspirated
        removed and replaced
luv is fluid
        injected salt water into
               wounds
    swell and seal
luv can be useful 
when dealing with very hard
             or other situations
luv is problematic
luv is self-sealing
       a tunnel wound 
ideally water 
             tight
luv is suturing and small
    is increasingly popular
       rarely performed a high rate
  of complications
luv is a capsule
         pressure applied to the membrane
usually short
             move cautiously avoid straining
        or heavy lifting
    serious complications: detachment
a sudden decrease often
         describing pain blurring
         vision flames
    of light or floating
         spots excessive inflammation
persistent swelling
at the front of the eye or the back
    of the eye blurred
    or foggy
luv usually improves with
            time and with
       application
luv is a drop
a condition, deteriorating
         vision or problems with
            glare and light
         scattering   
luv is a thickening
of the back a growth
luv is natural
    and younger and greater 
             beams of energy falling
       harmless
    to the bottom of 
       the inside of
       the eye
luv is leaving
    to hold in place removing
       enough
    to allow light
    to pass directly
    to strike, dash
luv is rapidly running water
               turning white
luv is a waterfall
       downrushing
       a portcullis an obstruction
descent of the water
       an outpouring
luv is unknown
and it is unknown
    if this procedure would work
in adults

“bloodstains, pasties & Michael Barrymore”

where do i start, well positives
next to the number one bingo hall
and thats where the fun ends
and I am afraid

you seem to walk miles the bread
and milk are on the opposite side the meals
were okay but saying that i did have a touch
of food poison for 3 days some of the fresh
sandwiches I’ve bought have been out of date
one I didnt notice until after
I’d eaten it

blood stained headboards
towels like sandpaper cock
roaches and a list of charges
rowdy folks arguing slamming
doors and kicking
doors and shouting
fowl language echoing in the corridors

a cupboard with no back a double bed the size of a hammock made of
concrete

rude staff windows that wont close no
hot water broken furniture dirty
utensils and actual poo in the kettle

lucky enough it missed our heads
but covered our table landed
floating in our drinks and splattered
(not a good start)
and they got soaked
(i feel really sorry for the cleaners)
we wrote our names in the dust
on the balcony rail when we arrived
and it was still there
2 weeks later did the same on the fridge
i found a cats paw in my pillowcase
i had a terrible experience
with a jacket potato

which made me quite put off
to be honest buying anything else
to be honest
i hate this place is a complete hole
i’d have to say i hate
this place
anyway we went out

and to give it its dues it is close to everything
and we made sure we got so hammered so we would be able to sleep

worship

to lie in the dark a little
longer with a mug of steaming
tea on the side and the birds squeaking
just for the sake of it

wipe the spittle from my lips and knead
dust from your eyes hold
my hand in the dark finding
yours let me drink from the glass
in your other and be quiet

just for the sake of it
my hair tangled and belly
loose on the mattress
i ask for your ache
and you give in the dark a little

where the heart is

and o come back to me
and make me feel secure
in my own skin
you have an endless capacity
to love
and you are the better part
of me

when you are gone I feel
forlorn and more lost for feeling
so alone and a cliche
of womanhood
on the doorstep waving i yearn
to feel complete
with your back turned

but i become smaller and more
hungry an insatiable thing
desperate for quiet and time
away from crowds
i sense gazes sliding over
and glazing i feel
so boring and a woman

when your hands are far
my body is heavy and solid
my mind is heavy and sticks
on glances o i am weary
of playing games
i realise i am like all the others
unfulfilled and yearning

you are endless and unrehearsed
and you make me feel
eternal and grounded and at home
in my skin i am dancing
with you in my daydreams
i am sweating and you breathe
a gasp in my ear o

tender

what a slender thread humanity
seems side on

life is tender and impossible
you are tender and wrapped

in fur you seem so very small
or are you

just getting further out i watch
as you recede

imagining your veins pooling under
your translucent skin

you are so tender and it is impossible
not to love

you. i imagine

folding you into the left ventricle
of my heart

pause

half consumed
half lives we sit
in the throat
of a snake

we sit half eaten
not quite gorged still
but not quite living

something is not quite
sated, perhaps

a pause
before resuming

we sit
in the belly
of the beast
in the calm
before the storm

capsize

global politics has caught
glandular fever
and i have lost
my appetite

turn off the lights
i want to lie in
the dark under
the weather under
the sheets turned
away from the sun
a flower growing down
a benjamin button flower

i am a quarter of the way through
my life
i hope
but i am weary
i feel
i have seen
enough

i want to lie
down and let it
wash over
or walk out into
the blizzard
and watch while
snow white washes
the earth

i think of captain oates leaving
the tent
“i may be some time”
i think of captain smith going
down
“some of us would go to
the bottom with
the ship”
“well boys, do your best
for the women and children, and look out
for yourselves”

made up

smear
dirt onto my eyelids
rub
dust across cheek
kiss the ground
and pucker up
to muddy lips

paint my eyes
with mould
and moss
curl my hair
with twigs
cover me
with mounds
and mounds
of earth

i want to exude
the fumes
of morning dew
i want to sweat
dog piss
and bird shit
i want

to be trod
by the feet
of thousands
i want

to wear
the colours
of dawn
and dusk
on my brow
i want

to see stars
in the glitter
in the shadows
of the folds
of my eyes

bad milk

somewhere deep out
of sight tucked
into softness and dark
i am souring

all that is liquid
congeals

i lie
prone and probing for protrusions seeking
confirmation from my fingers
what
my eyes have seen
on screens
what
late at night
in agony
my body has known

i see
men pulling plastic over palms
white
gowns drowning out
bodies white
lights piercing
the feeling
of latex
on my stomach muscles
a bikini hair line fracture

i am going
off

my blood races
pulses
beats
surges at the shallow
surface of my skin
yet
cut
through flesh ribs
or pelvis bone
peel
back
slabs of me
and all you’ll see
is raw
and all you’ll touch
is curdled
and all
you’ll touch

going soft

three boys abreast
 & three pints deep
(& me)
we talk about sensitivity

(they talk, i listen)

jokes thrown and feelings
 deflected
the tone is chill cool laid
 back
the running gag
is that these boys are soft
 and know it

   i remember 
standing between two boys
who fancied themselves
 poets
waxing lyrical
on their lack
of masculinity
 how they wielded words not weights
 how they lifted their minds
 how their love
of words of women
(they spoke, i listened)
made them nearly
 female

   i think
as i step slightly
 out
of step
of tonight's sparring soft boys
 how soft
the sound of silence is
 how soft is
my stomach
 how soft
boiled eggs spill
gold
 how truffles melt
on the tongue
snails in shells

 how men are called bits 
of rough

   i think
as these boys swing
their softness around and shout
 about it
of how stubble 
 coats my shins and their
 chins alike
of the inside of wrists
 how it is so hard
to stay 
 soft

   i wonder
 how these boys would look
if i peeled
 back 
their clothes
put my gentle fingers
to their tender lips
and softly whispered
we are all skin
 wrapped
around bone