michael oliver

The metal black stove
Cooled by nights decay
Forever dads first task
This cottage day reanaiscance
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Wrapped in settling snow from the warm pink
Flakes upon flakes upon patterns and soft geometry
My dad pulls me and sled snow silent
Him the single shape through flake and flake
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While at Christian tea over the desk
Asked the white collared guru
So what is Holy?
The gentle claptrap of church speak
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In the star field
The moon shining
A bright token
Calling on life
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Those eleven apples
A seasons festoon
Green slowly defeated
And blush triumphant
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Against the sky
The leaves and seeds
Await my brush
And betrayal
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She walks away receding
A framed hardship
Once she chased boys
A child's different corridor
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Under the lamp
under the sodium
a yellow quick clasp
Well mate how does
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The Christian cup of tea - handed and asking
Asking the stiff white collared guru
Askig the collar - So what is Holy?
The clap trap of church speak delivered - Squawk!
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Out there sky unfurls into daytime
Recalls a sunrise of youths first touching
As abstraction whorled into a sensation presented
A dawn on fire with its proof
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Buildings stretch their colours
The winter inertia
Sheds at the blossoms call
And birds gentle airs
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tea bowl in hand
all reflection
green tea surface
my idle mind
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full moon rises
along the street
even lamposts
bow their heads
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1.
the uncontrolled hedge
the garden roses define
summers attraction
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Smoking in the door
Smoking from the rain
Loud at night experts
Hellow Geezer through traffic
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After prayer
A single flame
A silent note
In infinity
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From this bridge of time's shadow
The white blosssom suspends the machinery
Its impermanence witheld spring bright sharp

The stream flows an uneven script
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over there the game unravels
a hormone dance on cobbles

there is laughter
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