<Driftwood>

The Suffering of the Stream
There is a place where she would always be,
Where the blossom snows between the cankered trees;
Holding his sour breath,
He knows she's there
Watching the torrent as it flows.

Watching her soft white dress, it flows
In the innocent breezes
Smoothing the stones,
Watching her cold white dress, it floats.

He could see his love like a long forgotten dream,
He could see his love veiled beneath the stream,
He could see his love grow pallid and suffer as he weeps,
His tears fall around her in oil-rainbow streaks,
He could see his own reflection cloud the stones.

There is a place where she will always be,
Where the blossom floats above her through the reeds;
Were cling the willow roots,
His fingers reach
Searching for her lost arms to seize.

Watching her soft white dress, it flows
In the innocent breezes
Smoothing the stones,
Watching her cold white dress it floats.


Macbeth's Head
How beautiful and unexpected it was
To wake and see the snow
Butterflying in through the open window,
Sand-dune drifting towards his feet,
Blanketing his room
Covering his heirlooms
And scattened things, all smashed up and sad
He felt so glad that they were gone
But still there beneath the snow.

With Macbeth's clay-red arm around his neck,
He said- ' remember...don't forget where you are...
you're with me-'
His clay-red arm like the muddy river
That rambles through the reeking town
Reaching for the sea.

Macbeth's head
Full of clover and the town below
Unaware of the time and the silent snow.
Macbeth's head
Full of barking dogs
The churis in rags, their cloaks
The heads of stags clashing antlers...
Their cloaks billowing down
The silvery hills of sleep.

Macbeth's head
Blows a silver horn of dented stars
Across the misty heath
But, 'come back' he couldn't say.
Macbeth's head
In the emerald eyes of dark women
Barefoot on the wharf,
The north winds sing-song singing
Through the gorse.
Macbeth's head
Down in the streets below
Blissfully unaware of the virgin snow
His purple tongue locked inside his mouth
Shouting drunken at the cloads
And a voice echoes through the landslide town
Beneath the bracelet bridge...
Macbeth's arm tenses round his neck-
Don't forget, don't forget.
Macbeth's head
Full of the smell of stone.
Falls from the satin sky
His closed eyes
His eyelids open...
Macbeth's arm tenses round his neck-
...Don't forget.,
Don't forget.

And how beautiful and unexpected it was
To wake and see the snow.


Belief In The Rose
The rose bows its head
From the hedge to the shade,
In the whispering calm
Of the cool colonnade,
Unravelling dreams and deeds
As it unfurls the heavy scent
I tried to reach,
Its poisonous dreams so clear,
Where death is death
And joy is joy so sweet.

And I forgot your tattered head,
Your rain battered dress
And I forgot your dark caress...
I want your thorns to cut my flesh,
My sallow flesh.

Your petals fall
But your thorns they remain,
Though seasons I want
For your blood flower again;
And wisdom and time they tried
To scorn your world
But in the rose I will believe,
Your pleasure, your pain, your dreams
Where death is death
And joy is joy so sweet.


Wallpaper Dying
The cold it penetrates so deep
The Leaves cry drops of ice,
A fire guts the land inside him
He wonders what's it like
To be in the sunshine with her.

The wet material on his face
With lines of unforgetful stress
A scratch in the wall by his side
He watches all the time
While all around him wallpaper dies.

The boards of such familiar grain
Are roads leading nowhere,
Careful drawings in the dust...
He tries to remember...
The breeze it blows it all away.
Something through the darkness
Caught his eye.


The Cyclone
Through the back door
The cyclone sailed her heart
Through the house she flows
And lifts his bride from the ground
And through the trees
He clung to them both
And their twisted sheets
Don't know why she came here
But she won't take her away.
And by the vineyard wall
He caught her flaxen hair
And the cyclone paused
And stayed where he held her high
Her eyes stroked the plain
Far far away.

Through the black port
The cyclone sailed her heart
Where the bora blows
A wind that cries through the town
Across the sea
She says she won't go
In these foreign streets
And the road that came here
Is the road that takes you away.
By the station wall
She left them standing there
Her eyes stroked the plain
Far far away.


The Way The Land Lies
The old man's come to see
The way the land lies over
Come to see the way the clouds roll.
He wants to know if cowslips still grow
On the hill where he kissed his girl
And if the sky turns just the same
When the wind blows from the west
Above the old town in the distance
And the village in the field.

He wants to see the graveyard by the church
And watch the clock and see the boys
Throwing stones at the skylarks
Just the way they were.

The old man's come to see
The way the trees fall on the land with the sunset
And smell the grass as it blows through the fields.

The old man's come to see
The way the land lies beneath the sky.

He wants to know if the rain that falls is just the same
And the way the clouds stretch open
And hang there like a veil.

And the ocean to the north
It sings the same song and turns
From blue-grey into green.
The old man's come to see
The way the land lies beneath the sky
To watch the shadows of the clouds racing by.


The Secret Sea
She swims the Secret Sea of sleeps cocoon
It's soothing hands caress her dreams she breathes
She tries to hold him in her arms
But sleep walks away
She holds but light burn the day

Upon the Secret Sea she floats alone
She sees a figure on the shore who casts
A shadow across the bedroom floor
The tide pulls the day
She calls but sleep floats away

A swirling flood invades her room as sleep
Takes off his head for her to feel
his eyes lose his face
Day pulls
His eyes from his face

She calls
But sleep walks away
She calls
But sleep walks away
She calls
The light burn the day.


The Untangled Man
Take a breath
Take a stride
Might bring you happiness
Might bring you wine

Small bird singing in a great tree
A man with boots on walks by me
Take a walk on the black beach
Feel the sand fine
Watch the sun rising
Watch it behind your hand

But show me the untangled man
Show me the untangled man
Show me where he is
If you can

In the face of a child
A place of wilderness
And summer time
True love waxing in a girl's eye
An old man staring through the night
Saw the fire of devotion
The faith of the blind
Watching the world turning
Weaving a rope of sand
So show me the untangled man
Tell me where he is
If you can


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