JOHN RICHARDSON | SURREALIST
I Remember The Times You Whispered To Me Of
I remember the times you whispered to me of
An invisible rainbow on a diamond spoon
A dream of wild thyme and caged lions
The transparent swallows who sang softly in Chinese verse
The pious burlesque dancer with a voice of embroidered coral
and eyes of burnished steel
A crystal pail of sea shell tears and golden petals
The giant wax fish who swim in clouds of jasmine
with their gills of precious stones
Lascivious lips that open at noon to reveal a mouthful of iridescent butterflies
The day the sun kept growing until it filled the watery sky
and only the porcelain moon could persuade it to return to its normal size
The stones with blue and green feathers that fell from a flaming sky into a forest of desire
The marble night when you tied your luminous hair with lightning and lace
Arranging your collection of dreams in order of colour and fragrance on your library shelf
The magnetic kisses and radiant stars you keep in your glass pockets
The hidden plazas of sublime shadows and the caterpillar snowflakes which slowly turn to ash
The mad love unforgettable marvels and outrageously splendid times which we would share
1-6 March 2015