Dwelling here
Can be hard
Life has a way
Of sneaking up on you
When you least expect it
But every once in a while
A little joy comes
To make it all worth while

Life is simple
We live and we die
What matters the most
Is what we do along the way
Its the lessons we learned
Its the people we have touched
The lives we have saved along the way
Living and dying
Loving and growing day by day
Until we return back home

Fare thee well by islets of time,
Beauteous blooms of fragrance; of thyme.
Gliding symphonies beckons thine eye,
Gentle minds float toward sky high.

O cues sung by the siren, allure!
Once, fusion of reason borne pillar.
Twice ponder, may our paths entwine,
Thrice to act, unlike the tranquil Seine.

Like angelic enigmas par Euler,
Soar upon the painted auric frontier.
Air fresh: an ebullient morning dew,
Wisdom: moisture for the thirsty few.

By spring fountain, if thou art inclined,
Bright sparrow among the bovine herd.
Lo, argent quarry of dust- liquid guile,
Behold, product beyond thunder- gale.

Scents of lavender assail thy sleep,
Euphoric dreams, we welcome with glee!
Sleepy horizons, a glorious dawn,
Morning filled with a trillion suns.

Some time, some day: travel the stars,
Mortal shackles unchain my awful maw.
Pupil of Aristotle, Darwin, and Vinci,
There lies truth; a transient hierarchy...

X marks the spot,
A man in overalls and rubber gloves tells me

Go stand there, son

And pick the bones & beaks
Out of the
Chicken press

The whole factory reeked of ammonia
I went home reeking of ammonia.

Chicken conveyor-belts
With upside-down chickens on hooks
Riding slowly over one master neck-splitting saw
Heads in baskets
For when the master saw cuts too deep

I watched them come
& go...

The factory was filled with silent mechanical drumming
Eventually,
I went home
Silent & mechanical.

I sold my skin one evening
As I had times before
He was a pale man this time
But eyes and hair as black as pitch
Teeth of smooth and beautiful ivory
Light circles under his eyes
Smooth, handsome face
Marred by an almost imperceptible scar

It was only when I saw his skin
Beneath the neck
His chest, his back
The corded and worn muscles
Fatless arms and legs and torso
It was when I saw his skin
That I both feared and ached
Wanted and wanted to run away

Where was it then?
That old romantic and cinematic sentiment
Where a working girl
Finds protection and comfort
A change and better offer at life?
Where was it then
When I wanted and wanted to run away

I sold my skin to him
My guts and breath and sweat
And though I smiled and cooed
Surrendered more than my form
I cast off my want of romance
Wept and hated myself
Beneath the actress’ mask
Running makeup on top of raw skin
Sweated out my tears
Washed away and worn away
False tone and pigment of youth

He left his seed, coin
And a tip for his tip
Light bruising and dull ache
I sold my skin one evening

Sea monster:
pull me from my boat and drown me in your waters
let the currents drag me to your home
a new haven for those lost at sea
countless souls left to wander
a shadowy world deathly in its beauty


let me live recklessly among foreign creatures
driven mad by freedom and grown wise from solitude
carry me upon your back, floating with ease
as if making love to the heat of the day

sing me the sound of your waves
lullabies washing away sins
whispering fleeting truths in my ear


leave me naked on the shore
sea foam biting at my ankles
bidding goodbye


As salt on my lips reminds me of your sweet kiss

I remember you were mine once,  my Sea monster.

We are halted on the path
where a small amphibious mite
has sprung headlong into an unknown world,
its river home now out of sight.
Fingernail-size it shrinks on the path,
absorbing the colours of the gravelled ground
and somehow surviving
the rigours of walkers and riders around.
Its freedom now moves it from riverbank hollows
to find the instinctive role that it follows.
Cradled in cupped hands it is carried to water
but I explain its life lies elsewhere.
These precious moments shared with my daughter
are but part of the time which may see it grow
and spawn in the seasons yet to come,
while we witness a cycle that’s just begun.

As I gazed at the flames of the fire,
It rekindled a childhood vision;
Memories of  a chill winter morn,
Wrapped in a blanket, I watched
A daily ritual unfold.
Cold, dead, grey ash was removed.
Wood, coal and paper then placed
With pious propriety. A sacrifice offered
Of one single match.
Drifts of dark smoke and crackles of wood
Nurtured cold coals into life.
The fire was fanned until roaring
With bright  yellow licks that leapt up the flue.
A welcoming warmth would draw us together,
Working and playing in a radiant glow
Of orange incandescence.  
In the evening we would always make toast
Before the dying embers were lost.