laughing with shameI bowed my head and wondered howhow to answer this question that hung in the airbegging to be heardcomplicated knot waiting to be untiedand I think that I don’t have itthe answer found a mate and is hidingcovered in some darkened cornerwhile I sit open mouthed and dumb looking a fooland not knowing…

your voice slips behind my earthe way your fingers might tracethe hair line, down the neckand curve gently across my shoulders to the other earto make sure that no words have escapedunheard, misunderstood, ignoreddon’t ask me to open my eyesand witness the death of this moment againjust let me listenlet me feel this cool reassurance…

eight cups of coffee measure the daylined up on the table among the newspapers and magazine clippingsi sat endlessly flipping between sipsnot sure what I was looking forexcept to find maniacal comfort in the glossy pages andfrankenstein faces plastered thereand then the ripping –pages torn out for a word, a look, a leaf, a colourin…

The storm on the sea was clichéI want to reach out well beyond the safetyOf the boat I cower inDive through the wavesDown below themWatch the crash that follows each peakI want to let the last remnantsFall from my shouldersAnd dance freely amongThe angels’ tearsYet I am rooted byThe battered stubbornness that remainsClutching frantically at…

freedom rediscoveredlike an unexpected embracethe flash of a smilereflected in a mirrorfaith restoredthis is what life isa whisper came like thiswith the morning windwhile the sun shonethe bamboo sungin low tonesand i satonly to listen ~

all I can do is sit and write,let the words flow through meit seems that they are empty and elusivethey don’t meet the measureto what is within my heartbut i cannot deny this pullto express in some wayhowever fleeting…in the stillness I can feel youwhen fear and doubt are laid to restI see myself in…

that mirrorholds no answernot for meI can barely raise my eyesHigh enough to meet my reflection’s gazeSo cold to my finger’s touchWhile my own skin burnsWith an unarticulated feverStaring hard at my handsI can ask what is this?But that same question chokes meStops my heart mid-beatWhen the emerald pools reach outAnd drown meWhat do you…

trail of stars sprawledacross the sky tonightthey dance on my extended palmtheir gentle light falls toward methe distance removedwith the closing of my eyes ~

the distancemakes me acheartificial separationthat slips in and cutslike a razorleaving me bleedingon the floor of my own mindi don’t reach out often enoughfear gets me and ties me downi want to tell you to wake upto tell you this life is opportunityto love, to give, to heali want to hold you,hear your dreams, your…

I miss the sun today,the clouds have moved inand taken overthe horizon…the piercing cold of the windis the slap I need in the faceto keep the door closed, lockedand every piece of furnitureagainst its backwhile I sit at the windowpeering through the blindswaiting…. ~

violets and forget-me-notssit in a careless collectionin the vase on the window sillsunlight is fractured and scatteredas it falls through the waterstems, leaves, blossomscut out at awkard anglesshaped by the sloping glass sides of the vasei wonder if i saw thisfor the very first timewould i stop and questionif the flowers were so disjointed, incompletewithout…

the garden is quiet in early morningbirds settled still with folded wingmorning glory stretches to catch the lightin its transparent painted palmgrasses leave silver trailsagainst my dressas i pass to greet youas i have done beforethe pool among the stones is calmeven the fish holdwrapped in watery armsand words are stayed in my throati stand…