Stella found a door in the new house
Hidden under the stairs from the adults
A door with a size so small for a crawl
At twelve midnight,
She was attracted to it
Drawn by the bright lights
That shone from within.

In she went, despite just being six
Into the cold narrow corridor
She found a lonely doll
With cheeks so rosy
And laughing eyes so blue
Out with it she crawled
To bond with her new best friend.

From that day,
Mum had nightmares
And dad became prone to accidents
Elder sister almost drowned in the tub
And her brother fell from the tree house
But all the doll did was laugh and laugh.
A laughter she alone could hear
She was scared and slept with it no more

One day, while she was away in school
Doll springs out of her room
Frightens mum who rolled down the stairs and broke her neck.
Elder sister was choked by her own necklace
Little brother gouged his eyes out
Dad set himself and the house ablaze.

And when Aunt came to take her away
Not a second glance did she spare the hateful laughing doll.
Thirty five years later, in her new home
Her daughter, Annabel came running into the room with a happy scream
With the doll held up in her hands.

"Look what I found! I'll call her Annie!"
Taken aback, eyes wide with shock
Those mockiing blue eyes holding hers
Stella clasped the sides of her head
And screamed as the doll began to laugh again!
A laughter only she could always hear.
The doll was back!
To take her beloved family away
Again!

Freezing a glance
Wind cuffs down-white heliums
Sweeps contrails
Separates cirrus across the moon

Cresting wave tormented
wind against steel
movement in movement
sprays of hair

Blizzard of petals from the apple
Furious snow
drifts off—  garage roof  
Fog that haunts the river on the coldest nights
___

The walk across the alley
took—
so long—
A lifetime from the doorway
of someone else’s impatience
Prints of motion
record the loss
a single set in snow

But there!
on the icy, shoveled surface of night
lies the snowflake of a bird
impossibly molted
Song of a feather
caught—
Flailing! Helpless!

More than lovely for its lying there!
Lying there!

The ******* the bridge,
Always on a yellow blouse
And a white flowing skirt.
Never a night does she misses her spot.
Elbows on the railings
Hair fluttering as wild as the wind
Always obscuring her face from sight.

Every night, I wonder
Who is she?
Where is she from?
Why this lonely bridge?
Never seen her move a muscle
Nor utter a sound.
It was rather strange.

Until one night, I decided to chat with her.
"Hey" I called but no response.
She must be coy...
"Hey..." I tried again and approached her this time.
No response still.
Is she deaf?

I touch her shoulder and she turns
She gave a shrilling scream
And that was all I remembered.
In the hospital I woke
And when asked why I had passed out on a bridge,
I could give no response.
I was cold.
The memory brought nothing but pure terror.

For how could I tell them
That the ******* the bridge
Had no face?
Yet she had always gazed down at the flowing stream below
And she had screamed right at me with no mouth on her empty face.

Anytime I walk on the bridge
Her spot is always empty
For she's forever gone
But I still have this wary feeling
That she watches me from the shadows
With that faceless horror
Waiting to take my face for hers.

cloud floating,
sea dreaming
of the blossoms of
the breeze,

love, the song
has got restless
like the wind,
it is time to
burn the
alleys and
the sun,

the sea sweeps out
songless and
murmuring to
a heavy sky,

roots that have
shrunk, surrendering
flotsam and jetsam
to the sands at
low tide,
cry for the
rain,


spring, no
longer distant,
waits for a
morn of warming
sun,

you, lover of
the spring,
wait for the
crocuses to
breathe
love.

I live in my head
I have my own room there
My own bed
Where I do my best thinking
Where I am most comfortable
It keeps me up most nights
Making to do lists and analyzing
conversations from days before
Daydreaming about everything
Some of the thoughts I have
are down right crazy
So crazy that it must not be me
there must be other people up there
and hell not just a room but a whole house
with several rooms and several conversations
I can envision it clearly
Sometimes I stay there for days
The lights are on
My shades are open
But no ones home
I do return to the real world and have
real conversations but seems like I
Always return to my head
Where I live
In my own room and my own bed