Sunny days
Much loved
Rain
No less important
Under appreciated
We hide from rain
And it still comes to bless us
Despite our rejection
I love you too
Rain

OR AS IF

Something’s gone wrong
in the developing.

The photograph shows us
(solid as could be)

being taken in by the camera.

But it also overlaps
a ghostly you & me
(from another photo) .

We fade in & out
of ourselves

(who remain totally unfazed staring at the camera) .

It’s as if we’re Star Trek
& have just beamed down or up
unsuccessfully) .

We beam at the camera
capturing our souls

(always thought I was missing a molecule or two) .

Or as if we’ve invented a time machine
& have gone to visit ourselves in the past

& it’s all gone
horribly wrong.

Or as if we’ve been dead for years & years

staring at the camera(captured sunlight)

and we’re some poor old ghosts visiting us

and smiling at an invisible
dicky bird.

She had to die for me to become I.

Life is a gift
Don’t waste it
Life is Simple
Don’t complicate it
Life is Beautiful
Don’t make it ugly
Life is kind
Don’t make it cruel
Life is happy
Don’t make it sad
Life is free
Don’t make it enslaved
Life is a tree
Don’t suffocate it
Life is dull
Don’t make it sharp
Life is a poet
Don’t make it shy
Life is paradise
Don’t make it painful
Life is love
Don’t make it hate
Life is a poem
Don’t leave it unread
Life is free
Don’t you dare ever cage it.

Willow hair
sky reflected
Narcissus introspected
floats lissom in the pool

NEM ÉLHETEK SE, NEM PUSZTULNAK TOBÁBB
(I CANNOT LIVE NOR DIE ANY LONGER )

For Miklós Radnóti  -

I build this
bridge of words
so that I can

walk back over time
and take
your hand

you to me
this man
made only of words

talking out of a book
and I only able
to touch you

with these
used words
of mine

I clasp your hand
in mine
call you friend

*

Miklós Radnóti, the Hungarian poet, was shot by guards after a forced march from a Serbian labour camp in 1944 and thrown into a mass grave. When his body was later exhumed, a notebook of poems was found sewn into his clothing so even from beyond this lonely grave his words insisted on living.

"Don't walk past me, friend. Yell, and I'll stand up again!"

I reach out my hand made of words and touch your words that still make you a man.

Skinwalker lover
Call my name again
My heart a peach in your fist
Dripping
Ever longing
More, more, more
Lapping tongue
Starving dog
Cannibalize me
Again
I'll never notice
My pieces missing
Begging for scraps
While your meal
Grows cold