This Metaphor

Take this metaphor this garden
And keep at it digging planting
And it will palm out your life in
Living and blooming things full

Take this metaphor this garden
In the shape of letter I a green
Handkerchief lit yellow-cream
In April’s sun’s reams of lights

Raining on as fluorescent photon
Strings on heat and everything is
The way they ought to be waiting
To be dug out and dug in planted

Take this metaphor and dig and
Place the popped up glistening
Worms over the black-brown earth
Under a layer of earth again as you

Go and keep digging in the lights
Sweat-wetting your forehead’s soil
In the lights let your breathes flow
And your eyes look for the eye of

The earth that shines through the
Grass growing exhaling her inner
Molecules of breathing in and out
This spring has been waking up for

A long time and now you keep at
The digging where she will throw
In this sculpture she has made of
The dead snail now on your palm

A paper thin tajmahal gold-grey
Round pyramid having imprints
Of earth’s black kisses waves at
The middle glow an earthen round

Eye in death this snail has now taken
The earth in forming him his form
From inside as she eats him in she
Holds him in a delicate pressure’s

Lips a kiss a togetherness as soft
And sublime as the touch of the
Wind on the petals of a rose and
There shines on your palm a love

Song of two paper-thin fragile frag
Menting matters into a final bloom
This you get if you take this garden
A metaphor forming you on always

And do not then forget to plant the
Other living snail that pops up near
You and inhale the love of this kiss
Of the snail and earth and plant this

Living snail back onto the black earth
And one day he will sing out a snail
Plant through the spring or summer
This love this love in this Tajmahal

And here is the metaphor take this
Take this and place it in the sacred
Most place and remember to look
For the eyes of life that only spell

Beauty’s sculptures scopes and cups
And do not forget to tell them what
You know for they are your home
And tell them you are theirs always

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This Aubergine Song

This gardening is getting hazardous
I broke the nest of two spiders today
As I realised it I placed my apologies
In the air to the spiders walking up on

The wall in search of a new habitat I
Apologised and I heard my mother in
My voice! I did speak out to the spiders
The way she would to the Aubergine

Plant in the evening collecting a few
Fruits! The spiders soon disappeared
But I got into this back-rolling space
Into the dark night where my mother

Held a lamp that would burn in the
Deepest of dark like a gold-red-white
Moon-flower held in the darkness and
Her face would shine against the dark

And her eyes two eyes would glisten
The way moon-shone lake does she
Would be the shore of lights by the
Ocean of darkness where her lamp

Would spell this connecting floral frag
Rance and silence was the gardener
And the velvet leaves of the aubergine
Plant moist and soft would shine like

Lotus leaves on the surface of darkness
Through which purple-sparkling island-
Eyes the aubergines look out towards
The lights of the lamp being almost purple

Sunflowers and their smooth skin would
Glow a flowing purple-water-waves that
Shine against the raining rays of lights as
Purple-lighthouses quietly caressing on

The depth of the darkness with the thick
Velvet lightness and there in silence my
Mother would stand holding her lamp
And apologise to the plant for picking


Aubergines in such an ‘ungodly hour’
And I would love her for doing that
Since I had never seen a human treat
A plant as though they were entitled

To as much respect as humans and then
She would pick the aubergines and go
Inside carrying the gifts of the plant
My mother and her purple gifts to the

Purple aubergine plants would forever
Be wrapped in these words in my mind
‘I beg your pardon, dear, for disturbing
You in this ungodly hour! Forgive me!

But I need your gift! I seek your gift!’’
And in this garden apologising to the
Spiders I sought the gift of a garden
A purple spring, summer autumn and

Winter and a cycle of creation-crops
And yet my mother spoke a beautiful
Aubergine in my tongue! And here I
Leave you this aubergine-song to sing

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The Empititude Imsonata

In the evening’s fragranced spread of embedded dark and light
Like your smile and voice blending into a painting I walked
On Waterloo Bridge bewitched in the Savannah of thoughts
Southbound singing Orpheus I was in Eurydice in Iguana light

And this straight line between the London Eye and I pushed me
Back asking to stop and look and hold and hear and sing: behold!
The London Eye now an I-tree in the evening’s audience rising up-
Wards heaven-bound! A tree dressed in sparkling lightmonds of

Leaves spelling beauty’s awesome metre in a rhythm in which my
Heart sang almost ceasing as it grasped the sight inwards a pyramid
Formed of a base triangular holding the I-tree in the cement of soft
Silk that I made of my thoughts and the pining that was my breathe

As I let her plant her glowing spread into the depth of my singing
Soul I drank her the way earth drinks a seed and I planted it into
This poem that keeps singing now of the tree of the evening’s ger-
Mination and I thought now the I-trees of the London Eye and mine

Be forever rising together towards the heaven with the lightmond
Notes written on the body of the dark in the silver of the sparkles
Of their leaves and no-one could ever take them off or cut them
Down but gasp and sing: Stand! Be static and stir and sing: behold!

And now that I have planted myself in the body of the I-tree and
The toil of the joys forked themselves in on my eyes where I have
Two I-trees still dancing as two seismic sanguine linear body-flow
Finding my home I came home still singing The Emptititue Sonata

And at home I sat and drew a Michelangelo circle on a piece of
White paper and I placed the two I-trees crisscrossing the centre
Connecting the spreadth and breadth of the circle in a song of
Plentititude of being in love where one simply becomes a silence


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