jean maudit

It's as though windmills
had spun a bris marine
to billow autumn like a galleon
over the waves of the park,
...

“The balcony never lets me down.
London floods in light below and stars
flock onto my hands.
Born on the banks of the old docks,
...

Even the solitary drinker in me
doesn't want to know.
I've spilt myself too many times,
knocking over the holy wine.
...

I ask do not enquire further
than the waves breaking.
I've stopped the boat to wait
under lamplights before.
...

I don‘t want to mention the sea
in this poem, it might come
between us. I'd swim it anyway
to reach your breasts again.
...

There should be a grand piano.
Somewhere in the room
my hands drown in the dark.
I'm out of tune. Someone
...