I am a sagittarian

I look up
but I'm no lover of starry skies
sharp bits of broken glass everywhere

how come then
I still like gazing?
gazing at such a great wholeness
until gently it lifts me
from the Earth?

my mood is suddenly uneasy
some one
loves you
and secretes tears
I warned myself long ago:
the spoils of love divide unevenly

I only
have myself
and sell time
to tomorrow
to make a killing
tomorrow is where brute beasts incarnate

the faces that have peeled away already
who knows where they are now
I’ve already peeled off
thirty-six of them
dog-faces, pig-faces

may I suggest to one who loves you:
don't go collecting those faces
they will devalue

* * *

I love only she who dissolves forever with
me inside strangers
she is my only friend

we roll around on the bed
I touch her clit
lick her arse
sometimes there is sadness and tears
sometimes there is separation
leave today’s newspaper behind on the
toilet

there’s no rhyme or reason
but together she'll grow old with me
we’ve never seen our own bright reflections
we live on the other side of eyes

* * *

I sit on a chair
body limp and weak-kneed
glad to be alive

beached dolphins
lavish praise on the life of waves
before they die

I have a small sense of how things will be
I also have a few crazy ideas
wheeling in clouds overhead

the earth keeps its distance
but is sat on by me
the sea stays away
but is carried in to shore by dolphins

I allow myself in my imagination
to imagine a little more reality
but never, never a surreality

* * *

Getting out
of the taxi
I noticed in the distance
on the corner of Nanshan Road

a couple embracing

I thought as I walked passing couples lock-
ed in embrace
brought more of joy to the eye
than a city
full of degenerate
sculptures

but as I got closer
what answered my musing
took me by surprise
I saw

that this couple
were only going through the motions
of embracing
two heads drooping
and stuck
demoralized
together
without pleasure
without sadness
and even without
a stillness
to make you stop for a minute

in an uneasy
mood I
walked away
from them

but I went on
trying to come to terms with

this work of art

* * *

I like reading books of poems
on my travels
and in places where people pile up
once
on a bus
I had an unhappy poetry reading experience
because poetry
is written in lines
the people round me thought
I had got my hands on some
weird gobbledegook
to turn their looks of astonishment
back to a dullness so like that of reality
I had no choice but to close the book
and any poems that had spread their wings