Lunch with William Killingsworth

Homeless in New York

2:10 was late but

He waited, knowing

I’d said ‘If I don’t show,

Consider me dead’.

　

In a bistro we

Drank wine next tabled

To secure couples,

Tangible assets

Hanging from cool ears

He misfortunes told,

His grandness thinned to

A grey T with black

Cotton rough-rimmed to

His dry throat and wrists.

Fading from his eyes

Down; stolen, buried

And forgotten, left

Drop bruise scratched, kicked up

By a fox or wolf .

I finished quickly,

He sipped his slowly,

Kept it real, fitting

Calm along lines of

A life that is thin ruled.

Quiet Prayers to the Universe

 

1.

 

Take me through

This

Take me out

Heal my thoughts

To soothe my limbs

And organs,

Gorgons raise their

Ugly heads again

Rising to attention.

 

Stop them dead, let

Them loll, spewing

Out the dirt

In Death’s dark dribble.

 

 

2.

 

Protect my heart,

It’s only soft

And already bruised

With coffee and liquor.

 

Keep it firm but

Flexible, with space

To expand and

Compress and play

Its song.

 

Make it hot to

Clot the wound

And send the

Brain curt

Response to any

Happenstance

Likely to lead

Both astray.

 

 

[6^th October]