He stared at her through campfire;
its flames sounding like a babbling creek,
and through the smoke he knew
that if he had been God, he would have thought
how perfectly he created the world.

Sour smell of wood smoke
seaweed flayed and dried
upon the rocks
those huddled stones
prone and obeisant to the grey sea

And there
a star that is settling
into the indifferent waves
leaving us cold and bereft
soon to be entwined
with the night

But do not despair
We will wake with the dawn
bring the candle of hope
in our hands
and much peace

A solemn and ocean-deep peace
shared
with every sentient being
in time
and every being departed
from time

The moon has its quarters
the sun its seasons
I have only this tenuous grasp
on life
a primal sense of loss and love
and the dull roar of the Pacific
in my ear

And when we two parted
I wandered your apartment
placing my life
into a shopping bag,
but under your bed
I hid a photograph of us.

I hope that some day you find it,
that you say that I was EVERYTHING
that you needed,
but...
I'll settle for you remembering how in love we were,
and realizing that somewhere
that person whom you loved still lives
somewhere in me.

Did Jesus pass his hand over my wi fi?
and it's working again
Must have touched me too while here
as I'm starting to feel well
after a month of illness
skimming the rim of hell
It's bad when you can't sleep or eat
or care for anything
When real friends
become more real
Hold you up with their presence

these clouds like follies,
these moons like watery
ghosts, flooding, light
like a swollen stream, the
golden glow escapes, exhumed
like an egyptian mummy,
its laundry the white sheets
of the world, its apparition’s
the reticent clouds of the dark.

i open my windows in October
when i sleep

i am alone

still candle flame through frosted stone

a warm milky glow
& cool crystalline air

these things weave me together

the blue glow of the television screen
mimicked the moonlight through the car window
where sat, Kate and i, in silence, watching
after a day gone that began with my name and hers

continued on until her slumber
whilst a lunar halo around me kept me walking in the night

the Georgian oak canopy hangs around like aurora borealis
i’ve never noticed it before

zephyr passes over the shimmering abyss
plots formed from images vacated

it’s what i breathe!

things that flash through my mind:
contemplative lips of a forgotten dancer,
bangs brushed aside,
a glance over shoulder…

                      ~

a spider beckoned me,
to show me the mandala he calls home.
he took what looked to be a deep sigh, and said,

inside and out, we all have gifts
to be given, or shown, or flashed through thoughts.

i asked if he could give me a tour.

the raised lakes of Beijing
are fitted with the finest glass walls
parents go there to unload their unwanted children
the squids of the lakes grab hold of the children,
          hug them
                    adopt them
                          teach them to breathe
people walk by, pay no attention
but the glass walls are built tall
            wiped clear
to the point where i can’t help but to notice.
the orange plumed tentacles
grown straight from the children’s backs
          pulsing like a flame
                  like a phoenix
                         like a poppy’s bloom
smeared by the color of the water’s haze
or the tourist’s awe-shot eyes.

a pause, rested against the mill hopper
behind the glass of an eye

these empty mornings
climb through a mindful shell- as passes a gust by bare branch

distant looming giants wade freely tantamount to possibilities
in the house of both existence and not
they flow before us like gods