An Evening at the Gallery

I

A rainbow must be poured,
the air framed and hammered –
a million wrinkled angel hands
hold

II

I take the glass and glowing ice,
put it in the racist’s mouth and say –
bite

III

Of complex fire
little can be said – at first.
Then, it toasts the mind

IV

Imperial marble glitches
(robed in light, disperses)

V

Imagine the whole world in pastel
skyscrapers. Then,
through the dark, a mist
and floodlit grass

VI

A devil dances on the church.
Children laugh and reach
but only feel the stone –
gaps where faces should be

VII

In the dry ice
and perfect acoustic space
a sofa waits

VIII

Bodies on a walkway
in black coats – all watching
an ad for trainers

IX

A thirties hotel
immaculate corridors, red carpets –
in each room, a clump of
mushrooms
sprouts from a freshly made bed

X

Mecha-godzilla was only a child…
He didn’t know the ripples were chaos!!!

XI

The grass in a late nineteenth century
park square, begins to glow
at the tip
and shiver

XII

Words carved on a black wall say –
we are sediments.
We sink to the bottom
– anyway,
let’s go eat soup