The sea is a distant silver chain
hugging the horizon.
Wind laughs, dances and sprints
giddy at the space.
Grains bounce and tumble through
her outstretched palms,
each and every falling dot
another universe.
The shore-line sighs and is erased
so gradually
by the careful, precise hands
of advancing waves.
Names, messages and castles
blur, then vanish.
Wind tires herself out and calms,
dampens the sea peaks.
The hidden beach slumbers underwater
waiting for the tide to turn.
All the poems I wrote last...
Stranded in the nothing,
spinning like a planet
My thoughts are still and calm
like the first light of dawn
through willow branches at home,
which I will not see again.
Giving myself to chance
I start to count all the
different types of infinities.
One slip and I fell upwards,
my body only a loose collection
of dust,rejoining the cosmos.
I glance over my years,still
calm. Each moment inevitable.
As oxygen runs low, all I see
is orange, red, blue and white.
I ask the rain for answers
but it offers no reply,
just a gentle tip tip tap
annointing my forehead.
I want to speak the same words
as the indifferent sun
or babble with the brooks
in quiet flowing tones.
So much remains unknown.
In thousands of lifetimes
we may, together, learn a word
of an infinite lexicon.
I try to converse with the wind
but it does not answer back.
With soft and tender hands
it ruffles through my hair.
All...
The sun sinks into the ocean
sending vivid indigos and ambers
to erupt like fireworks over the sky.
The water is a perfect mirror,
no horizon visible.
We grade it two point three
out of five- could do better.
Reality isn't real enough.
Lost in somatic slumbers
we crave the perfect waves,
the right breeze over flawless skin
brighter colours, deeper saturation,
higher resolution than our eyes can process
Always seeking rare sensations
to drown the silence deep.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook for free. It's...
We ask for guidance from eternal stars
burning above our heads in the night sky.
They are too distant, the void too vast,
the cosmic fires never answer our cry.
Movements we thought once to be signs of hope,
we thought they were suspended in æther.
Now we know, when we peer into our scopes,
they are long dead and sound won't carry either.
Our atoms once were forged within their flames
before gravity spun our fragile sphere
Now no connection or link does remain.
Now falls the night. We are alone down here.
...
One time, he marched down six flights
then, panting, demanded the manager,
argued his way into a room change. Any other
number would do, would keep him safe,
but those digits were cursed. He wouldn't
even walk in. He never stepped on pavement
cracks despite his mother turning to dust,
burnt sage and rosemary to cleanse the spirits
from his flat built in the eighties,
was always polite to magpies. In this way,
the unknown was kept in fierce control.
Life continued to intrude, long and
yet brief. He would not like this...
You would not know me in this form.
My face shifts and is never still
like the empty dunes that whistle
so sweetly or the swaying branches.
If inclined, I will fill your sails
with the steady direction of home,
and help your seeds scatter over soil.
But my origins and allegiances can change.
Within a cloth bag, I keep my rage.
Do not provoke me or otherwise
I will untie the intricate knot
and watch your houses take flight.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook...
Walking alone at night, gravity
increases. You are dragged downwards
towards the shivering planet. Your air
becomes a compressing accordian.
The sky is a finger tip stretch away.
Halt and crane your neck upwards. See
a section of infinity sprawled before you.
Don't you know this starlight has rushed
as fast as possible, for millions of years
to reach your eyes? Look closely
to see the start of everything.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook...
Synthetic flowers bloom through concrete
endless identical duplication.
Algorithms ensure each cluster is neat
and our coding is perfection.
Nature is chaotic, impure and free,
we discarded untidy mutations.
Better to lie under precision-made trees
than risk a genetic connection.
Despite our models, projections and all
sometimes the weeds still take root.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook for free. It's called Lost in April Fog and you can download it here.
The bulldozers, with unsmiling jaws,
sneak around behind your street.
Their growling engines go unheard.
They lurk until you go to work
then devour your walls and windows,
chew your garden and rooms to dust.
All they leave is a flat facade,
a movie set illusion of your home,
a blue door with absence behind it.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook for free. It's called Lost in April Fog and you can download it here.
Withered branches, bony fingers,
scrape a sea of forever cloud.
Ash falls in soft snow clumps,
embracing land with quiet tenderness.
Look down, to where knotted roots
erupt from the carpet of grey.
Imperceptible at first, your eyes
adjust: new scattered flecks of green.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook for free. It's called Lost in April Fog and you can download it here.
Lying in bed awake as the city sleeps,
the events of the day play before her
like a scratched and dusty DVD. Incidents
unfold out of sequence, sentences
skip and repeat and fall out of sync.
As the pause button fails again, she tries
to listen to calming sirens instead.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook for free. It's called Lost in April Fog and you can download it here.
and confusion and so you live
and this time round you learn
the universe has more dimensions
than you can possibly perceive
and you are an ant on a paper strip
and the end is darkness then lights
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook for free. It's called Lost in April Fog and you can download it here.
Under a static sky, we speak
in dial-up modem screeches.
Number stations replace news.
Books become junk code. Still, some
claim to see patterns in the flux.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook for free. It's called Lost in April Fog and you can download it here.
Down here, light dances on my skin.
The world is a muffled radio
playing the next house over.
I sink and try to tune in.
All the poems I wrote last year are available as an ebook for free. It's called Lost in April Fog and you can download it here.