March 2015
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
camera-less
no words to take
the place
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
river of stars
rippling behind the veil
of summer days
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
singles bar
loneliness measured
via sxting
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
pre-dawn city
pigeons pick through
last night
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
with dawn
I am become
Raskolnikov
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
the silence
made holy by water
and its sound
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
the colour
of clear water
in its song
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
autumn dusk—
the tinges of death
now sacred
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
with dawn
the sound of water
in Latin
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
trickling stream . . .
corporate oligarchs
foul the trough
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
point to point
latinating lines
of travel
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
the moon
almost all of it
and yet . . .
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
on the steppes
of a banned rotundra
sparseness of sound
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
startling night—
mercury fullmoonate
amid the stars
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
a rainbow
slain in its coming
sun-shower
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
street walkers
hawking the dark side
of the moon
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
autumn dusk
watching my shadow move
beyond me
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
a bird settles
into the quietness
it darkens
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
with each day
a slow darkening
of sparrows
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
at a loss
as to . . .
passing girl
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
Passion Week—
psalm responses
from the void
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
just loss
beyond the scope
of words
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
diving into
the past's extinction—
mirror moon
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
last light—
the candle-wax
of words
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
twilight
listening to itself
through me
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
leafy pond—
the kaleidoscope
of what was
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
moon-mist . . .
a mirror framing
questions
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
morning fog—
the deepening metaphor
of my breath
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
labouring under
an illusion of clarity—
cloud-curdled shadows
-
Details
-
Written by: Stephen Bailey
spider steps
across her navel
clouds and whey
