having been away
going through motions
absently drifting
a bag in the wind
drying out on the sand
waiting for the next tide
to replenish something
that's hard to define
has seemed lacking
missing in action
i read that book before
when I started
a new volume
some of the characters seemed familiar
however changed by living
days hard to keep up with
unconscious skills a pool
underwater resources
can be relied upon
when the blind lead with
strange instincts

wish you had stayed
to write out the pain
memorable music
of you for us
you went under a bus
paparazzi feed magazines
pop will eat itself
mirrors reflect an animal
caught in headlights
the rabbit scurries for a burrow
down that hole
strange temptations present
shining shards catching rays
during daylight the glare severe
shows so many flaws
photoshop camoflauge
with a silkscreen we can
make that picture an icon

getting to wednesday
is no great feat
you tell yourself that it is
by friday you're a hero
planning drinks
two days ahead
missing appointments
empty enough
to make space for dreaming
fifteen percent to fill with things
that leach into eighty five
counts of daydreaming
between tasks that
finance sensory explosions
to carry us into
another week

into the rabbit hole
darkness and damp
leaves of grass brush
the queen of broken hearts
ripped from pages of a diary
chapter twenty one
you made the same mistake
will you ever learn
that those dark chambers
harbour all manner of scares
you've met before
cards and tea and hats
never reveal anything
to change you
your arm plunged into earth
feeling your way
the rabbits sunning themselves
the answers absent
still falling
there's a light at the end
of the tunnel

under a rock is the only place
that muffles the buzz
bees in a jar
the cycle disturbed
buds stall
hard pods at the end of spring
the season changes. flowers that
should have bloomed
stunted beneath new leaves
empty vessels
trees fruit well
only every few years
preserving and storing away
building colourful shelves
to keep out the chill

explosions muffled by distance
colour sprays the sky
another weeknight
no cause for celebration
patterns spread across the horizon
black and white
leached of feeling
wondering what the occasion
I am missing is.
heading outside
smelling smoke
seeing mirrors
the conjurer designing displays
distracts me momentarily
until I remember again

the black vacuum
darker hours
remove the mites
they eat & eat
away at themselves
there's nothing left
to go by
but another beginning
when the half hour
ticks over
you don't know
what to do
with that time
but to reach out
into the skeleton
to remove the battery