Until the End of the World

(By Sil, the 15th of March, London)

We’re here to build
Castles in the sand
To bestow wings on angels
To dabble in the puzzle
Of reality
Tugging hard
At the fraying seam of
Human certainty

Absorbed by wonders
Encoded in divine slang
Our brief existence
Is the window
Through which
A mourning Universe
Catches reflections of
Its lost symmetry
Before the Bang.

We’re starspit.
Unholy because
Nothing holds
This world;
A rubber-band jerked skip
Between too hot
And too cold.

In the galactic
Delayed backstory
We saw our future.

A true prophecy:
When the warped Alchemist
Is done transforming
Gold into Lead
When the stellar fire is out
Then
The End will come
Chilled unhingement from
Quantum attraction
Welcome respite
A licence to surrender
The rock of
Perpetual reaction.

Last Night I knew...

(By Gub, the 13th of March, Toronto)

Last night I knew what faith was.
It’s a dream you never wake from.
I saw an x-ray of a human shoulder-blade, taken of a young boy.
The blade had the distinct ossification of a wing bone.
It was so clear to see.
In that moment I knew I was looking at the x-ray of an angel.
A manifestation of divine purpose.

In my dream I felt the ecstasy of absolute knowledge –
It was total and blinding.

The Space Where Heaven Closes...

(By Gub, Toronto, the 13th of March)

...the dark arc of the firmament
This edge of fire,
Burns like phosphorous

Against a flotilla of stars.

Circle back
Through breathes
Of time

Capture each second of
Wakefulness,
Each nuance
Missed,

A child’s cough, a
Chuckle of laughter

Those red rose petals
Crushed flat by a kiss.

The shift in your gown,
As Love opens
That draft of bliss.

Drift through heaven
Alone,
The past
Behind me closes,

Home seems hopeless
And far

Ridiculous

Your closeness in my heart.

Time and space form a celestial
Body,

An unholy bar.

3 Minute Poem

(By Gub, the 3rd of March, Toronto)

I'm drifting in
And out
Of this meeting
And wishing I
Could leave

My body,
My mind
Depart please
Now
Over
The sea

It's 4pm in my world and
Midnight in yours.

The women are droning
Horse-voiced
Wraiths
Dry and sharp

Arid
Humorless

I yearn
To laugh
Flex ribs
Around a
Funny cotton-reel
Wound tight around a
rubber band and a pencil

Play tanks across the grass

See you smile, watch our son
Roll down the bank
Our dog dive in and out
Of the daisies and butterflies
Flirt free....

Spring Chorale

(the 2nd of March, 2011, London)

Just a little sunshine
Just a little push
A child's
Rhymed promise that
Crocuses will show
And leaves unfurl
Lush
Hailed freedom from
Basement entrapment
And straggled
Sofa encampment
A spirited stride
Into spring's
Chorale
To crush
The bitter seeds
Of winter
Exile