In the bleak December cold,

when the lights of Christmas have gone out,

a frozen emptiness gathers - poised above the lost and alone.

It seeps into the hearts of those who have taken vows

To the Holy Order of the Forsaken.

Witness the new "Holy Innocents" whose spirits walk the night.

Blithe spirits, who gave till their essence became too transparent.

Their proffered cups - now too airy to fill,

they cry into the wind for substantiality.

They walk towards the verge of the world and the old year turning.

Shall they plod on - or silently, simply, step off the edge?

My friends, - there is no life, where there is no love.

In a world that is caught
between all the cracks,
there's a lonely old woman
with a **** on her back.
She is wearing a shawl
that's tattered like feathers.
She is speaking aloud
And the words are her tethers.
She raises her arms
And she spins in the darkness.
Weaving and tripping
Against the world's starkness!

She is chanting the words.
She is moaning the words!
She is crying the words!
She is shouting the words!
She is whispering the words.
She is sighing the words...
She is drowning in...words!

And in her dark eyes
That are shadowed..now streaming,
You can see that shes crazy!
You can hear her mad keening!
Her shawl lifts and flutters-
the feathers all airborne!
They swirl all around her
Like a dandelion snowstorm!
And when the wind soughs
And clear is the air
.......There's a crack in the sky
She is no longer there...

It could have been a pleasant Monday.
We sat outdoors and ate our sandwiches.
It was crisp October, and we were on a dig.
Earlier, we had used the transit to measure
teepee rings from the nomad Cree tribe
that once lived and loved here.
You'd found the marker stones.
I'd found a stone tool.

But now we sit having lunch in the tepid sun.
I looked at you and saw a young man
who swaggered with false confidence.
You wore an army jacket,though we were just 16.
Your hair was red, and a little curly.
Your eyes melted me, -robin's egg blue.
I looked at your hands still holding the paper
and I saw between the freckles on your wrist
a blue vein.

Without ability to stop myself I touched you there.
And then my mind whirled.
For the first time-
suddenly, I was in your blood,
your heart, your mind!
You were just as jolted as I was,
and we have never been the same.

40 years later. We write on your birthday.
You ask about my mother.
Do you ever say my name?

I have no sense of humour
I have no sense at all
I spend my whole life waiting
Just waiting for your call
being here without you
is so completely wrong
I'm here outside your tempo
I'm here outside your song.
Im haunting all my rooms now
just trailing like a ghost
I think of every thing
I miss holding you the most
It's more than half past midnight
I'm running out of time
There's nothing more to say now
Im running out of rhyme.... aaah!

I was walking on a winter's day
It was cold, and I was lonely
Wind to blow all thoughts away
.... too much for me right now

Will this be all there'll ever be?
Just to push against the wind
And feel the cold erosion?
And if that wind just disappears
Will that mean that I will fall...

...To fall and fall away?
A lifetime's walk to end this way
Looking for a fair wind.
My spirit still has silver wings
Will I fly away?

The city's light and darker places
are all strange to me.
I only see the glint and flash
of some other's recognition.
But mine is dull and lost.
The mist rolls in and dampens
all my spark,
and on my light-less windows
spreads the dew.
Here in my gypsy nightmares,
search I for you,
And reaching out, with staggered hand,
write to you.
See here, on darkened window, I breathe -
Write once, then in great sorrow,  leave.

I know sometimes
When night time's nigh,
A moment comes
And makes you sigh-
and languid are unfocused eyes,
They do not see, but look inside.
And they perceive another scene,
A memory or else a dream.

Or is it that you hear a song
like woven canticle goes on?

Two voices blend in melody
that pulls the heart insistently,
till nothing else can then be heard
not butterfly, nor yet a bird.
One song goes on into the night
in endless perfect flawless flight.
And so, may this song ever be.
This song is you, this song is me.

Tomorrow, who can say,
Will there be a window
where I can greet the moon?
Will the thinning cloth of dreams
accept the stitches of yet another patch?
And in the day, could I find a moment's charity?
Day after day the rains fall cold and grim.
I see the folk gritting their bodies, all tensed,
as though to steel against it.
Can we dream of clarity, when it rains?
Don't speak.. no, don't say it.  Don't tell.

Oh Life!  How could I know,
That I could burn
From bitter snow...
And wounded thus -
Begin to know the very cold
That cripples me -
And makes me writhe incessantly?

Oh world! Be kind to me!
The burning frost is searing, See!
the marks from every touch -
when I am brave and trust too much.
I cannot see.
Your icy frost
Has blinded me.

My hands are numb
From reaching out.
There is no fire to single out.
Distorted in the icy mirror
--of others eyes,
I learned to fear.
The roads, too slick to run away -
I keep time on the spot..... and stay.

... So now it's been twelve years...
Do you still live?  We were torn from each other.
Can you still feel the constrictions of your heart
With every memory brought back to life?
And, sometimes, is the past so real, that you
can breathe the very air we breathed
- and feel my skin beneath your fingertips..?

In my world there is none replacing you
Though I have kept my paper dolls for comfort's sake
My cool resolve is straining.
I can still feel the cool coarse texture of your hair
-and long again for innocence.

Will I carry  you in my heart unto my last days
Never knowing what was lost?
This forever unrequited love plays like a tragedy.
Shall we never know our hearts again?
Shall I always dream and awaken empty
-you in your world, -I in mine?

How shall we counsel our children- love our mates?
Are humans never to be allowed perfect love,
But forced to part and seek our surrogates?
I wish for you what I have not:
Conjugal bliss and total amnesia to past perfection,
Renewal of hope - for only that which is attainable
- and gentle sleep without dreams.

A bit of string,
A tangle of yarn,
A trinket, harvested from the gutter;
She's searching for something special in the unwanted.
A bright eye glitters.
A talon snatches.
She flies on...

Bearing her treasures, she floats above her shattered nest
That clings, forlornly to a crooked and lifeless branch.
Her wings grow tired, yet she must complete this task;
-To make whole, what is but a semblance of haven
  -yet, it is HER nest

Lighting upon the branch, she weaves and tucks
and struggles to secure it.
She adorns it with the fruits of endless questing
And believes it into wholeness once again.
With joy, she skitters to the very heart,
Preens her feathers -opens wide her wings
And bursts forth with a heart stopping aria.
-her mating call.

Well,
I'm up all night
aching
And I'm listening to the hum
of the refrigerator;
On the night watch-
Marking the change of days.
Water's dripping
somewhere
and the hollow empty sound
echoes in my mind like
thought.

Oh
I want to lay
this heavy body down.
Why fight the
irresistible pull of
gravity?
But I fight the urge,
Knowing,
that to
lie alone
in the dark-
listening to the hollow empty sound
of thought,
Echoeing in my mind
like water,
hearing the hum
of my body,
I'd be up all night
aching.

ah....baby baby..
the thought of you is easy on my mind.
I see you in the morning
in the subdued shadows of my bed;
all unaware and still asleep in bliss-
your hair tousled on red pillow.
I see your arms abandoned where you left them
when you, suffused with happiness,
slept in my love.

I love to look at you
when you are unaware.
I memorize the arches of
your eyebrows.
The shine of your eyelids.
If I am careful,
I may touch that soft cheek..
See the coral lips.

Gently, and with great tenderness
I think of you,
of drawing you into my arms.
Of soft morning coos and sighs
of kisses sweet and slow.
the thought of you is easy on my mind
Ah... baby, baby..