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September 2015

September 2015

Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
only now
hearing the voice
that called my name
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
distant chant
a lawn mower droning
mortality
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
at a loss
to recreate such a dawn
I bury seeds
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
blood moon
eclipsed by
another side
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Written by: Stephen Bailey
and you, son
listening still to the song
in its egg
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Written by: Stephen Bailey
plumb-dark eyes
where all light is held
in thrall
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Written by: Stephen Bailey
these words too
my eschatology
of being
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
dead to words
the silence of darkness
within blue
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
full grown
in my memory
seeds sown
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
is this dawn?
egg sacs of light
in my garden
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Written by: Stephen Bailey
moon-drenched
the dark side
of my garden
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Written by: Stephen Bailey
on waking
words from the dark side 
of the earth
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
what binds you, moon,
to the light and dark
of passing days?
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Written by: Stephen Bailey

the nothing I have to say is in my words

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Written by: Stephen Bailey
out to pasture
I chew over the cud
of becoming
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
the sound of
messages of condolence
after the tone . . .
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Written by: Stephen Bailey

on queue words line centre-stage 

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Written by: Stephen Bailey
eight legged dew
along silken fall lines
spread the light
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
to be
is the was
of seems
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Written by: Stephen Bailey
september ends—
native birds piece together
a war of words
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Written by: Stephen Bailey
barren moon—
unable to conceive 
a being 
greater than oneself
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
september—
the spring once more
in my step
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey
re-entering 
my neolithic age—
soil-dark fingers
Details
Written by: Stephen Bailey

a word
after a word
at war
afterwards

 

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