Mark Heathcote Poems

He kisses me like a caterpillar
curling in a sun-aroused-flower
so playful is his desire, his ardour
my carpel wishes are to enclose
...

The night sobbed
her heart-out near-fully,
that is why the day arises happy.
Joyous as a songbird full of mirth
...

God has turpentine the walls
and brushed out the cobwebs
and wax-polished the floors
but He always resists cleaning-
...

For a short time—Only?
Needing—without Hoping
Wishing—without Wanting
Gazing—without Looking
...

When will you adopt my heart?
Like a child in its cradle
I am like a green flower plucked
dehydrating on an evening's vigil.
...

He who vents anger towards god
and says he doesn't exist?
Couldn't-be more of a believer
then he who goes church on Sunday
...

Our way-would calling?
Star pulsed, lover.
'Who's hearts a purple emperor?
Teased-out of a milk-white flower'
...

'When you became a reality to me
Not the falling petals of a dying rose tree.
The enchanted meltings of recent snow.
Not a tale of long ago!
...

Her legs are like earrings I've never worn.
They're something to be dangled,
before an electrical storm,
like a fig vine, she snakes through my mind.
...

The carpenter's hands are bleeding blood
His heart is a house made of sandalwood
He carves & smooth's it to fit a tawdry groove
A dovetail joint he shares with you. And, you approve.
...