To-night is dark, so
  step lightly and carry
  a large lamp into
  the howling woods

Wisdom says run, run
  to dark caves and
  harrowing silences
  mirror the bottomless

The abyss, gazing
  headlong into itself,
  recoils in horror,
  shudders dis-eased

And only lamp-light,
  courage flick'ring
  in oppressive depth
  persists, defiant

A stain on un-becoming
  a trampler of stars
  peddler of filth
  who knows all the answers.

I think too much about this Lego House
And that the life I am leading is causing me the strife I deal with today
I feel too much, take everything in and store it,
Never let it surface
I hate conflict and fighting but it's taking over the vacant parts of me
And I am boiling over because of petty things
I feel it all, these houses and these walls
I want to slam this door shut
Watch the timber snap
The trap door to freedom
But I can't find an exit
Bursting to find an out
I am locked in these cages of 1556

We think it's in the protection:
above, the vast canopy called Sky;
then we want freedom
when pervasive is intrusive
and seek shelter

Searching, we expend lives. Rain
finds a way in, we run seeking new.

We think this is unique,
then neither vast not endless,
but blobs floating in space:
it is in the beauty of illusion; then
disbelieve, hopping bruised on.

Neither in protection nor in freedom
nor in anything other;

Under the canopy again,
up on a hill, until
buried deep somewhere in us,
we see, it was there, all along,
and we grow up.

Let the film end before intermission
characters be underdeveloped
let the plot lie open like cut veins

and let the the background score
resonate in the hall at its shrill note

It's a broken piece of the heart
cracked into two:
two faces reside here now
on either sides of the chasm.

Make whatever you wish out of it
Sweet or bitter end,
tragedy, comedy or farce
or thriller or horror,
write your own story, make it up.

take any road up the hill
to eternity beyond.

She wakes up at 4pm
leaves the house
only at sunset

she talks
in feline nothings
to her cat

& reads
Rousseau
in the afternoons

10 years ago
the last time
she saw her friend

not her fault,
the distance
of course


sometimes
she goes to the pub
where she doesn't

know anyone
& drinks
half a guinness

comes home
drunk on the night
& it's thousand stars

The hermit and his hand
Sticky fingers and solitude
kama sutra of the fingers

Rise, rise, out of the caverns of darkness,
through lives, unfolds your immortal journey

Collapsed field         Vast to small        particular                    blabberings
chosen timeline         growing ego        wonder, wonder        to structure

through vales sunny at times, but
through the vaults of obscurity often

Scribblings                 crowd of faces     men, trees,                 flowers
to consonants             to family              birds and beats         butterflies

grounded in the light ancient,whose
descension is all the souls that set out

Autumn leaves          Seasons                      tastes, smells         one of a kind
rainbow joy                of sun and snow      sound of music      for all things

before the dawn of time, branching out
into segmented existences, in a quest for Self.

regimen          run, roll,               infant bondings           slow march of
and play        skip and hop          friendships                 the little man

I thought you were my life. I grew my life around this life.
You and them were all I had.

Lost home when voice broke,
now this wind that scatters all -
peregrine again.

How do I start anew? What part of me do I say is not me
now and where do I find the I was before us?

What part of the mist
is mountain-tears and what part
the last monsoon cloud?

The heart is a hollow of the bowl-song, an unrung peal
of the untolled bell, sullen tree laden with loss

First snow of deep night,
silence has a colour now -
a hue called longing.

But I must let go. Transitory, the joys of our life, like
the distant lights disappearing at dusk behind the hills

Go, larks, speeding east -
all my ***** loves set free,
now rises the truth.

I was free, always free. The receptacles are gone, but love
finds new vessels, new vehicles.

Emptiness is full:
the shell has all the colours -
gone the jezebels
but still rich the air in hues
that more can dip in and drink