TONIGHT I CAN’T SLEEP
because all the people
I know are machines
and their lives
have been extracted
put in a glass jar
on a shelf miles underground
because I’m anxious about
what I’ve done/not done
because I’ve crossed
my name off a list
because God
won’t take my call
because I’ve left
the television on
because I’ve forgotten
which paw
my cat washed with today
it’s important
as the left paw means
tensions will increase
because the moon
has grown sleepy,
while clouds
dig trenches
throw grenades
make ill-advised
Advances
to daffodils and crocuses
because I’m lying there
in that state between
wakefulness and sleep
on a bus jolting
through
an unfamiliar landscape
because I’m not making
a decision about the future
that’s getting more
and more pressing
because there is
no path between the trees
because I haven’t
even got a cat
PALACE SONNET
A man and a woman lived in a tent
in the garden because they’re
at war with beetles, bugs, aphids,
badgers, foxes and moles.
Their hearing has become so attuned
they can easily tell the difference
between slugs and snails by how
their tongue sounds when eating
leaves, stems, tubers and bulbs.
But only she can hear petals
unfurl in the sun. Only she can hear
the flowers say thank you after rain.
Only she can hear maggots eating
the man’s soft tissue.
ARISE, HER EYES
Usually we made love downstairs
on an overstuffed sofa listening to
the light sax fingering of
Gato Barbieri, gasps and grunts
from the electric piano-blitzer
Chick Corea, and the mellow tones
from Gary Burton’s four mallets
stroking bars of the vibroharp
but yesterday we fancied
a change so listened to
The Best Classical Music
where Mozart, Greig, Chopin
and others eased us into foreplay
until, that is, Wagner came in
with his apocalyptical
Ride of the Valkyries
that was too urgent, too loud,
fired a bolt that winged us both
and we fell onto the carpet
bleeding, sweating, exhausted,
our mouths cursing and laughing
with every sound and colour