Mark Heathcote Poems

I dream so, oh so, so high of ye
Night and the soul wilt rest
And raise me on an oncoming cloud
Aloft to my angel, my angel child
...

I lose control of all my senses
And then I tingle, uncontrollably,
When I'm embraced in your arms
My heart gives up, all its pretence's
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Love exudes a sticky pinesap; it extolls-
a resin that'll encapsulate your soul
love is a bee in a red hibiscus flower.
Drunkenly, sings maybe this is my final hour.
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What is there to harmonize?
Don't you realize everything is exquisite?
Everything is tickety-boo,
Don't you realize the universe is just a child too?
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In her hands, her new beau will be smelt
adrift, turned around, a new cast, swanlike
on-a-black lake intercepted and paired.
Soon she'll entwine with him unladylike.
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Second-time around, second-life around
If a thing doesn't exist until it is measured
In a way that is quantifiable
Undeniable, understandable, does it exist.
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Carsick, I'd squirm like a worm
in Daddy's car, but I daren't be sick.

I daren't speak truth-be-told. So I'd squirm
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We're all tied together you and I
Little black moths of the fraternal sky
Dancing together bound by these stars
Moonlight; drowning in her reservoirs.
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Men of wheat men of bread
Kiss the earth, bury their heads
Blessed they chase the bees
Even before the flower buds.
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Eyes explore for wildflowers in tall weeds
it's where the unexpected shows its face
it's here March hare springs into life and speeds,
oh, those flowers were once you full of grace.
...