the darknessof my moodcolours the toast
new notebookan abyss yawns opento my voice
in the aweoverspilling her eyesour smallness
news of warteens eye their figuresup and down
an imprintof Hiroshimashadows me
with agethe deepening pallorof the moon
sultry nightmy birthplace rattlesits chains
swollen nightthe pre-cum of dawnbends a leaf
as it fallsthe intonationof the night
windfallenon manicured lawnsSappho's ashes
no more mindjust the ebb and flowof a sea
a cicadaclings to silenceripening
plagued by silencea ruru mimics the soundof the dark night
beach-combinga child washes awayfrom her death
pond ripple . . .the one I amno more
moonlit seabound to me in this ditchof ownership
after rain toothe sea has no colourof its own
up, downa leaf adriftor not
midnight hunt . . .every pulse pledgedto the prey
grave silence –a distant fantailbarely heard
night falls on night falling on a dark sea
still life . . .all my coloursfrom dusk
dead silence . . .an ancestral wisdom in so few words
still us –sounds aflutterenter the light
awake again . . .has dawn recreatedthe am I was?
am I to be the words no more
open hand . . .her call curls out fromthe unheard
advent silencespeaking our language
my heartbeaton mesolithic timeonce more
heaven-sent . . .vernix enfolds the wordwhispered in doubt
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