wind refrain . . .
hollowness gives
wood its voice
March 2015
autumn wind . . .
a nocturne rising from
gutter pipes
heavy with
night's aftermath
dew-lit leaf
loose-leaf wind—
I am become
my autumn
loose-leaf wind—
I am become
my autumn
spider steps
across her navel
clouds and whey
labouring under
an illusion of clarity—
cloud-curdled shadows
morning fog—
the deepening metaphor
of my breath
moon-mist . . .
a mirror framing
questions
leafy pond—
the kaleidoscope
of what was
twilight
listening to itself
through me
last light—
the candle-wax
of words
diving into
the past's extinction—
mirror moon
just loss
beyond the scope
of words
Passion Week—
psalm responses
from the void
at a loss
as to . . .
passing girl
with each day
a slow darkening
of sparrows
a bird settles
into the quietness
it darkens
autumn dusk
watching my shadow move
beyond me
street walkers
hawking the dark side
of the moon
a rainbow
slain in its coming
sun-shower
startling night—
mercury fullmoonate
amid the stars
on the steppes
of a banned rotundra
sparseness of sound
the moon
almost all of it
and yet . . .
point to point
latinating lines
of travel
trickling stream . . .
corporate oligarchs
foul the trough
with dawn
the sound of water
in Latin
autumn dusk—
the tinges of death
now sacred
the colour
of clear water
in its song
the silence
made holy by water
and its sound
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