new moon
lighting what's left
of the night
February 2015
massing clouds
my eyes strip the sky
of silence
before light
a breeze murmuring
soundless words
in this bar too
ancient gods brood over
wine-dark seas
once more
on the outer
day moon
shadow play—
the moon, the tides
and I
night rain
sans stars sans moon
sans souciance
moonrise
light filters through
a face palm
aflame at dusk
a tui opens darkness
up to song
summer haiku—
wrestling with the word
of angels
at odds with
the song of the earth
a lone cicada
honeycomb—
herein the fountain
of youth
autumn dawn—
behind my eyes light leaves
a yawning void
its is-ness
stained in metaphors
river-stone
by moonlight
deep scanning still waters
of almost
dark energy
bird-like
the gravity
her mind
defies
wailing wind . . .
the birth-blood of night
drowns my voice
resting its case
a kangaroo court leaps
into recess
Middle-earth
a migrant magpie
lost in space
last light . . .
I cast aside words
to enter it
hen party
a maid cocks a snook
at the bride
altar light . . .
the fire the cold say
just isn't
parched lawn—
I quicken to the scent
of fresh rain
bread and wine—
nectarine flesh stained
with plum juice
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