January 2018
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
the truth of words
lies buried in
my darkest Africa
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
after vultures . . .
the unshadowed earth
lies sun-scorched
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
my heart beats
to an ancient drum —
djembe talk
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
in nightmares
dank watering holes
of my past
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
fecund night —
a paleolithic venus
by ink-blot
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
distant thunder —
the unfolding crescendo
of our waiting
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
sunset shimmer . . .
baobab trees
are paper dolls
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
the long shadow
of Mitochondrial Eve
coils in my dreams
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
savannah dusk —
baobab trees stride time
with up-raised arms
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
far away
handfuls of dust
whisper of origins
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
mute autumn —
my daughter takes up home
two inches behind the eyes
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
with the pine
a blank page practices
presence
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
breath stop —
#haikumonk goes on
alone
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
on the page
a raindrop
breaks silence
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
kitchen raid
the wolf moon lights up
my stealth
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- Written by: Stephen Bailey
