May 2014

bread broken
hearts unhinged
bake within

star crossed night —
open hands bloom with
open wounds

harvest's end
the withered stalks
of wild oats

space
just as if
it is

end of leaves . . .
some ancient god turns
on my eyes

fantail song . . .
still the fetal echoes
of a fatal quest

eventide —
a sparrow alights
a still point

red shift —
this lip service
of words

beyond here
a keening wind
and the stars

window frost
misshapen trees melt
before me

first frost
the blackbird too sings
of some other light

storm front
light drumrolls
its absence

leaf light
trees seen only
as they are

wordless now!
my child's fingers
flicking light

a stone
utterly white
bares its name

the ancients
so still the shadows
between stars

black hole
not seen by
two

early bird . . .
the whole universe twists
in a wormhole

new moon . . .
the void in me
yields to it

dark sky . . .
a godhead in me
rises

this light!
my chest expansion
of darkness

star gazing
the downward spiral
into her eyes

suburban dawn . . .
a treadmill quickens
with purpose

morning sky
horizon to horizon
cold porridge

by moonlight
a candle unveiling
dreamscapes

in the fog
along the river
another voice

star viewing
all that was
telescoped into the present
yet to be

fallow field
the folds of what
I plough under

all my reading quietly enkindles

in autumn rain
the living too are strangers —
graveyard moss