Sometimes
the WHY, is
a mystery
that
you have to
leg go -
- because if
you ever
actually
found it,
nothing
would be
any different,
so you
must
free it
and thus
yourself too.

Excruciating...
Is the feeling when
you are not enough,
for someone who is
everything for you.

summer has burned up,
blown past, the thermometer
sinks stone-like, its silvers
dulled in metal tombs
no longer spiking red.

the wet leaf hangs lower
on the twig, the bird balances
on the branch, the day
fragments, its grey clouds
flowing under swiftly
closed doors.

the summer’s great lizard hides
under a rock,

the summer sings of ending days, of
lonely horizons and crystal seas,

we smoulder in the sunshine
where the clouds flow in their

drifting streams, their ridges like
colossal ledges on the mountains

of the world.

What is it about the moon
That I miss so much
Hiding in the corners
Of the sky
Peeking between
the shrubbery of the clouds
It's no use, bright thing
I still see you

the stars tremor in the water,
breathe of sky and silver bird,

the night is a closed eye, a
river of frost
where the dark, born
of root and shaded dream,
stretches like a flower;

the shadows lengthen
dissolve into wooden gate
and hollowed out tree.