Redux September 2011 – Night Dance



Haunted, he wears his ghost lightly.

Woven on phantom air

the dream descends like spent ashes.


Singing, with pointed sticks

he marks the wing of the lightning,

 as only a father might do.


Entangled in ghost tossed clouds

he follows his fractured dreaming

like a mother’s goodbye.


Haunted and enchanted,

he summons the cast of the moon,

the wash and cry of the sea.


The borders of sleep are burning.



Poem and pastel drawing by Clinock


Ghosts Pass By…

Ghosts Pass By

Ghosts pass by.

Abandoning their armchairs, stubbing out cigars,

swigging the final drop of vintage port

they leave by the back stairs

hanging a sign on the closing door

as they go:

“See You At The Parade.”


Ghosts pass by

evicted from my pineal penthouse,

no longer welcome.

Long squatting ended

they join the Felliniesque fandango

and pass on by – animals, sprites and

crying phantoms in wheelchairs and on stilts.


Ghosts pass by

and turn their eyes my way

but no longer have a claim on me.

In wide hats, feather boas

and cloaks of stars they pass, but no longer stay

cluttering dreams for days and years

with swirling mists, droning gabble and icy threats.


Ghosts pass by

the darkened windows of my night and I

watch their two dimensional ambling

with eyes of dawn. The parade is long and filled

with fascinations, fears and the magics of moon.

But I have cut the chain

and am exorcised by love.


Painting and Poem by Clinock.

Painting: 20″ x 30″. Acrylic and oil on canvas. 2013. Click on image for more detail.