Cinnamon Sand


Cinnamon Sand

slipping in the cinnamon sand

looking for a heart to hold

a seeker at the gates of gone

broken furrows zig zag

across the land lightening flattened

clouds of longing loneliness stretch

farther than the eye can see

if it sees at all

at the edge of the river


cinnamon sand takes me down

to find the places where I can be found

to bring myself the ever sending stone

the story of people in coffee shops

stringing one another along

welfare of others with little in mind

except how to find that heart to hold

running crazy in the fields

spun here there

scraps of moments

horse rockets in the afternoon sky

silver in the sun

gold in the moon

flying higher and higher

till all true blue eyes can see me

quivering at the slide slip into

the shimmer glimmer

of a smoke man in the shape of escape


truck stop diner smiling bus boy

wondering if this city slicker is quicker than silver

sweeter than gold

he’s got that brush of hair

one longs to trace

wisp on the chin and along the jaw

is this the heart to hold

the image to mould into future mistakes

to tumble him in the seat beside me

the rusty red 64 pick-up

coughing down the highway

into the looming storm

a sky spread with zig zag fever strokes

a desert spreads out before us

endless cinnamon sand

to be dug through


but neither of knew

what words to say to take that moment

to step out of it

to shape the world

into someone with a heart to hold

into someone to build a castle

in the cinnamon sand

empty seat beside me

an aching voice on the radio tells me

look in my face

there will be hope

when the morning comes


sign of spring

This month I am looking at some of the pieces I may be reading as part of Born To Be Blown. I was tempted to make some of these a bit of a guessing game – who inspired me – but with a title like Cinnamon Sand it isn’t much of leap to Cinnamon Girl and Neil Young. I dug his hair & wondered what his mutton chops would feel like between my thighs 🙂

The piece echoes many of his songs in the same way, with sprung rhymes or variations on his lyrics – ‘horse rockets in the afternoon sky’ ‘I dreamed I saw the silver space ships’ with a dash of Crazy Horse – a real mash up perfect for someone in the future tired on unravelling Joyce’s riverrun.


lamp of the future

‘Zig Zag’ is his electric guitar sound – which often comes like  jagged lightning. I wanted to filter in some queer sensibility in the way I think Neil might have if he were queer – ‘smiling bus boy’ being the diner waitress Neil would have fantasied of picking up.


the first cut

It also has the sweet romantic longing for those things Neil seemed to long for but never had, or maybe he did – I never did late night driving or truck stop diner stopping but dreamed of it. But like castles in the sand (opps that’s a Hendrix reference) I didn’t try to built a reality on those longings, just a few poems.

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr


my favourite red head?

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