COLORS

She wrote on the excess of daffodils.

Her thoughts were equally excessive.

They discussed the situation.

She wrote yellow thoughts

yellow loves

yellow inhibitions

and yellow anger.

The answers flew by in glorious black.

nyc 3.26.76

never cross the moon

it will not work out

praying and bathing and

worship and shit

that won’t get you moon cred

think:

hello moon how are you doing

put your hand out

don’t expect moon to take it

there are no hands

you knew I would say that

never cross the moon

benevolent sod

kneeling and swaying and

chanting out loud

the things that you miss most

think:

hello moon not planet nor star

you rise you fall

to yourself she’s indebted

she has no plan

you knew I would say that

never cross the moon

handsome lunarettes

marching and twirling and

placing small bets

whatever you ghost now

think:

wake up moon I know who you are

she kneads the call

like the dough she’s regretted

she’s lousy with plan

you knew I would say that

never cross the moon

wearing sensible shoes

7.10.21

nyc

Photo: REZ nyc 2.17.2025

 

wander

into a pen or a brush 

sweep away all betrayal

you start out small

in your honest repair

one line or two

the masters you learned from

are laughing at you

these strokes

that you dare

this unspoken poetry

is easier than you think

so stop thinking 

be unfinished

for once and forever

dip the brush

draw the chalk

drag the oil through memory

your face is a story

still to be told

your face is the memory

the future unfolds

unfinished is sanctity

unfinished is bold

unfinished is memory

unfinished is gold

 

5.1.17 nyc

PHOTO: Tim Tapling Sundown at Thurstaston Slipway : Wirral : 17:Feb:2025.

 

russian river valley

sonoma county

pinot noir

 

you are here in underdressed stories

crimeless passions of the lone
ly

among a live human choir

you are here to rectify coyness

 

you here for the judged

you here for the mulching

you here to remind him

writing is vengeful reminders of love

writing is something to witness

flown like the wind 

an unharnessed forgiveness of sin

 

you are lacquered with golden reminders

useless rations in the cupboard 

wedged between the writer’s lies

you are here to stamp out forgiveness

you are here to put out the humorless lies

you are here to touch the forgiven

you are here to witness denial

 

tramping across the

russian river valley

sonoma county

pinot noir

 

for your underdressed love of freedom

countries you have never ravaged

he went there for the love

he went there for moments

he lacquered dreams of old glory, impaled

he risked nothing new on the grand scheme of things

 

russian river valley

sonoma county

pinot noir

 

an undermined noise

better than bee stings

 

nyc 9.7.23

photo: Doggo 2.26.202

 

NORTHERN LIGHTS 

 

urban cliff dweller am I

with the soul of a hermit

searching the light
in an alien sky
I’ve been warned of the storms
considered regret
I wander in restless
celestial deterrent
sit at my desk
and wonder what’s next

I pound keys into stars

words land uneasily
the rest of my scars

are stories told freely
I wanted to witness
that unearthly glow

cramped as I am here

in darkness below

the cat creeps beside me

his eyes all aglow

what more do I need
what more can I know

evil is written in stone
and in snow

in rivers that rage
deserts I don’t know 

urban cliff dweller am I

with the soul of a hermit

searching the light
in an alien sky
I am home with my light

my river that flows

my witness to self that

continues to grow
my desert that kills

each passing word

I live by the light of
unknown northern night

I wonder what’s next

shall I stay shall I fly

I wonder what’s next in

my northern light

 

3.18.15

nyvc

Photo: 2.12.25

UES Kitchen

PHOTO:

Tim Tapling Reflections : Thurstaston : Wirral : 07:Feb:2025.

when wandering in poetic gloom

me with my penchant for 

comments uncalled for

me with my trek through truth-raking ruin

me with a fathomless distrust of 

small birds in a room

finches have gathered in a field of thistles

little birds fuck in the shadow of eagles

they are lovely no doubt

their feathers of hope

the eagle the hawk the falcon of nope

starlings are chunky in nature she says

invaders more like 

armored wingspread today

for the entitled right to belong to somebody

when rightful wounds mended unsung is okay

a long-term cornering has begun with me

with an abstract bag of poetry

lines unaccounted for as long as it takes

it is me the raker

it is i who rakes

 

LOSS

loss is gain is earth

is pain and sun is

rain is friendship dying growth is new is ground blue is meant for flying

death is newer fruit

is ripe and won is worth is sisters crying gratitude is found even in the lying

life is data search

is then the sum of panning for the golden new is lost and wound tighter than the runoff

right is wrong again

is still the burn off

on a friendless wind storm sisters soulless found nothing beats a sun roof

storm is calm again

is buried under

decades of intention

right is wronged renowned living neat living sound

living quiet dying loud

For B. For now. 4.22.16 nyc

PHOTO: Tim Tapling Moel Famau across the Marshes : Burton : Wirral : 29:Jan:2025.

I think of you

In the low moments

The space between torment.

I think of you

Like a list for the market.

I have that. Don’t need that

I must stock that soon.

I think of you

Eyeing that bloodline of

The red, red wine.

The glass like a broken marker

Of unsaid regret.

Coffee beans in Sambuca

Dark and perfect.

I think of you

I think of you

Fingers crippled into caves

Of unsure revenge

Covering the keyboard

Folded, dilated, saved.

Crossing the Rubicon.

Wearing the wrong shoes

For a miscalculation.

Does it count

When I am up late

Betraying those decisions

I made to choose.

I think of you in revisions.

I think of you

In stories once written.

The page like a nightmare

On its gentler way

Flying down slowly

To save a dark day.

Who makes the incisions

When friendship is torn

You think I’m wrong

I know

I know.

Does it matter

This blue unintentional

This sudden redeemable

This this uneventual

Collision of disregard.

I think of you even now

Conniving inspiring rewiring

Despairing on cue.

Foolish me foolish you

I know

I know

It’s battle fatigue.

Embraced at the airport

Like long lost friends.

You left me no choice but

To choose in the end

The history of one over

Small angers of another.

I thought you were bigger.

I thought you were tougher.

I’ll miss you for now

Never forget your voice.

It’s stuck in our song.

You have no choice.

Make the most of your secrets

skulls piled under lampshades

Rugs pulled from the eaves

of regrettable he-said—she-said

Another conquest will come

In a while.

Be safe little monkey

Think longer and harder.

Beware the pedestal

Reject the martyr.

Beware of the longing.

Remember the embrace.

Love yourself try harder or

You will lose the race.

I think of you often.

That will not be erased.

1.26.19 nyc

Photo: 8.17.2019 nyc

 

SIR SHADOW

Sir shadow, you drunk
Sir Shadow, you mean 
and crazy man
Sir Shadow, you hopeless shoe lacer
you angry defacer
Sir Shadow of mine
you black valentine
swing from the wing with a ghosty divine
Sir Shadow, you hopeless
reminder of loss
comic trickster of heaven
Byzantium’s loss is 
a place where nothing of import
gives into dull hymns
or nudged the sweet need of sorts
Sir Shadow, it’s now

in the cinnamon dark
when I drink to the owl
to the falcon, the lark
and the music still hovers
like a family of sorts
Sir Shadow, the sum of 
my disparate parts
gets childy and needy and
begs for the stars
the way to lace upward
the wayfaring boot
send me on to the place
and dig me my root

11.12.14

 

LISTS

people come

people go

lists remain

our blind farrago

algorithms

inner cracking sound system

bleed me

bleed my

love or defeat me

I have met that person

I don’t do autographs

but I am up for the duration

people come

people go

lists remain

our blind farrago

patriotism

secret weapon stashed within

free me

free the

horse underneath me

riding wild to reason

to a place unaware

of the knee-buckling seasons we share

people come

people go

lists remain

our blind farrago

somnambulism

eyelids lowered to the scrim

teach me

teach the

heart that belies a

beating past of war cries

in the thin underneath

of the root killing history we know

people come

people go

lists remain

our blind farrago

4.29.17

nyc

Photo: Tim Tapling Flaybrick Cemetery in the mist [2] : Bidston : Birkenhead : Wirral : 27:Dec:2024.

 

 

She was not a fan of

varnished poetry.

So much slid past her.

That reverie.

She preferred life’s boils

Bursting in mid air

When anyone asked her

That question.

nyc

Un Deux Trois 8.2021

Photo: July 13, 2021 nyc

 

sounds deep or shallow

under skies gone dark

that dog our heels

on a tenebrous path

that cause us to wheel

in fright or wonder

may be devil or angel

may be owl or lark

the presence of spirits

both wicked and tender

have roles to play

help us remember

we map our own paths

in darkness and light

night is only

one half of life

1.30.13

nyc

PHOTO: Tim Tapling

Sundown : Dee Estuary : West Kirby : Wirral : 30:Dec:2024.

 

Who is in danger?

Me and U says the pointy-headed horse

Of Medieval cloth

For a second you were the pegging thing

For a life time I was the withdrawal thing

We are both in anger

Wrapped in inexplicable danger

Disguised as only

the last true stranger

When the mask is discarded

Revision lasts only

Until the gun is reloaded

For the second you thought

Though I knew better

I dribbled the court

Around a face book letter

Though we both understood

what makes things better

I am drunk now

And I will sink the basket

you will retrieve and unasked

roll down the court

eye on the prize

I am drunk now

To you a good night

To you who appears in my wandering gloom

To you I invite into my insular room

Unicorns, like ghosts

offer magic in anger

My pen pal friend may we write for longer

Than life or death

Hunger or strangers

Who arrive at our door

Who sidestep the angel

For we are humans

Glad to entangle like

Deep ocean squids

Knowing the angels

That keep us alive

That make sure we thrive

This poem sucks

It’s late

This poem sucks

Don’t care if I’m late

This old heart rusts

A unicorn opens the gate.

 

4.27.19 nyc

Phot UES 10.20.24

 

IN BETWEEN

 

in between the in-and-the-out

in between the stop-and-the-go

the whisper the shout

a shoulder-forced entry

while eyeing the exit 

reason seek solace

the migrant regrets it

in between the in-and-the-out

I’m dancing like somebody’s

drunken reminder

my past or their future

such flypaper traps

keeps me hovered above

I don’t know what matters

I do know what loves

in perfect blood-splattered

space and time and anger and mold

rats and betrayal and centerfolds

those who beg mercy

those who are old

are the same are the game

of the lessons foretold

we don’t ever learn 

it’s a useless road

we don’t beg mercy we don’t share the load

rats and betrayal and centerfolds

sniff the lost, look for the found

beyond the cheese smile and the 

deathly confound

when we know that the worst

is within our grasp

then we know that deliverance

is a panic a curse

in between can be planning

a way out of the cask

red wine should flow freely

like blood from a gasp

I will never beg mercy

I will always ask

how to find the in-between

that safe place before

it all goes mean

shoulders are rolled

head thrown back

finding my way out of yearning

finding my way to the ask

 

2.20.16 nyc

PHOTO: Fenceline : Noctorum Lane : Oxton : Birkenhead : Wirral : 16:Dec:2024.