Oh Words flying around the circumference of My existence – hand extended to allow one or two To light on the palm Flying and falling below the edge of the line That I write upon Reaching above just slightly to create An atmosphere of interest My eye drawn against the convention Of lines and letters…

I The first to speak for I – and for no one else The knowing of others Is like the knowing of a river Almost impossible Beyond the passing How could I speak For the stones and Countless drops of water ? The endless sea of faces Though we are connected Like the roots of…

In last moments or first ones Where are the words To express, the tools that And in the telling in the most Crucial and important They lay like beads Scattered and fallen On the floor They have fallen into The cracks between The boards and rolled Into the corners of the room But you must…

here the turn goes with the notes floating from finger tips beyond eyes yield little in the faded light of evening cords that drag in the water turning in the current where is the truth the lie there is no mirror no matter how we try and yet what is clear life ends, there is…

To life, the bell marks out the length of days, the longer breath of shadows that fall over footsteps and heels impressions in the soft dirt path sun rises and sets moon rises and sets sometimes, sometimes change comes between the two To life, the liquid chrysalis over time changes only in the pause between…

I Mermaid Close, October 2006 These are conversations I have had in the deep hours of night, or in the stillness of early morning; conversations with silence while I grappled with myself, my life, with everything or found myself alone. Mostly I am talking to myself, however, on rare occasions, or perhaps not so rare,…

here is your silence in this room laid out across the tables in soft golden tones of candlelight in the pages of closed books resting now in piles by my bare feet here is your silence wrapped like the amethyst beads around my wrist this pulse that we all share shortening the distance between us…

This portrait of you Sitting before me Framed and tilted on the tabletop Makes me wonder about the Rest that is not found here Eyes watch back From the smooth edge of the paper The edges will yellow with time The sun will fade the ink And the glass will bubble All this to distort…

There is no end In the centre of this breath I can’t imagine What is lost Passed the edges of it Where unattended parts of me Tumble into the unknown Unnoticed, uncared for No end And yet The beginning is tucked Into the folds of right now In the creases of pages In shadowlines Chaotic…

You are drunk In your silence You,  full moon parading Through the night sky Shining silver And spreading the disease Of lunacy about Flailing hands and glib reply I am too tired, too spent it seems To see the remotest mirth In what troubles me There is no comfort In misplaced laughter When I find…

In my haste to understand I should have not remained so silent And let beauty pass Not knowing it would be so fleeting Like a broken mantra The words repeat again And again Hollow and cold Leaving me A shell Not the only beauty Left in the world, my world Not the first or last…

Perpetual motion Heart beating in a teardrop Not my own The volume of a song Just loud enough to hear Cuts through the silence The unnecessary context Tears the soul to pieces Life to be continued In the creases and forgotten cracks Newspaper folded and hiding Under empty plates Shadows dwell and leave Flat screen…