June 2013

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

across the valley
drift ancestral voices;
with each rise and fall
of her still sleeping breast
moonlight enters my breath

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

how absurd!
a pukeko alone
voices it

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

winter rain!
is this the rhythm
of a death poem?

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

all day rain . . .
darkness now soaks me
to the skin

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

livid sky . . .
a river narrows
inwards

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

bitter wind . . .
the suburban totems
leafless at last

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

stormy night . . .
rain sounds flay me
bit by bit

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

on the living
and on the newly dead —
wintry rain

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

polar storm . . .
a taste of darkness
without end

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

the wind darkens
within my listening —
longest night

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

icy veins . . .
the wind parts a way
to the deep north

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

winter storm —
the sound of one colour
blowing still

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

late spring . . .
a bull snuffs out
the flowers

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

breathless dawn —
a mosaic of leaves
lighten up

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

dawn breaks out
in tongues of fire . . .
frosted earth

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

after dusk
in a muskrat's wake
primal slime

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

swaying reed —
the flutemaker reads
a closed book

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

listen!
the sound of grapes
being crushed

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

all at sea
a lone pigeon maps
the way home

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Written by: Stephen Bailey

wintry night —
streetlights overlap
shapes of me