Ripples on dark and cold stone shores bring forward memory
Near the lake, I seek out the path to dark waters
Asleep not long ago, time has lost its tight hold
Escape is disgrace.
Jan 8, 2024
Jan 8, 2024 at 12:59 PM UTC
Colourful leaps!
glistening, burning flesh
shimmering across the walls,
it could have grown a glass eye here.
Smooth and sinuous under my nail,
from my hands scales rain down
the brilliance now quenched.
I pay no respects
slide the blade across
and separate.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 1:57 AM UTC
a crunchy-looking evergreen
glitters beyond the buttery sun
melting onto dense white halls,
an angel’s resting place
my breath melds with the clouds
together we drift silently
our shadows over the hills
punctuated by the early sunset
Nov 20, 2019
Nov 20, 2019 at 2:08 AM UTC
How do we know
goodbyes are impermanent?
Is it because inherently
Things never last
Such as the self?
I gave a bit of my body to everyone
Handed the pieces away
one by one like pills
so I don't have to say goodbye anymore
Well now,
I have returned
and I want those pills back
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 1:09 AM UTC
Icons on a virtual screen
Tinny music for your ears
A row of keys
Linear time and
not so linear words
versus
A quill and ink
Bright dangerous oil lamp
Parchment paper
Musty like my grandmother,
Cradling the words in your mouth
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 2:57 AM UTC
gasping, panting,
the wind penetrating my pores.
eyes watering
I dash through the morning sun
a black blur,
free and wild as a sunspot
at ten past ten
peeking past my curtains I see
a dim blanket covering the sky
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.
Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks --
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.
The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,
Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.
These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills' northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beating at an intractable metal.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 1:17 AM UTC
there is an old man standing
at the pole on the train
he is cackling to himself and
tossing feet around
it's at times like this
that i wish i were invisible
playing dead to the world
living mountain
hillsides growing gingko and pine
my stones rubbed smooth
by the murky water
translucent with memories.
Jan 18, 2018
Jan 18, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
Heartbreak is only
the time that exists between
two eras of love.
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 8:47 PM UTC
lying on the ground
a cup of untouched mint tea
oxidizing from ochre to black
I put on a coat
stretch out on the balcony,
and wait for the mist
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 8:29 PM UTC