It’s the thin strip I love:

between horizon and ground
where eyes light upon and linger.

There is a magical shiver that
travels the spine and tingles.

Being human is being capable
of that gaze, of that view.

There is no room that can give
this silent sight and enthrone it

like it really meant something.
Yes it did – yes it will.

Waves pull and sea-folk sing.


20.17
06/02/09

The continuous search for truth
rips, slits, and soothes…

like a journey on ice it slides
towards the horizon far.

We each a turgid ragamuffin
who dare to bend; stretch

the cartilage or pull a muscle.
Rigor mortis coming in

to teach us a tale or two.
Sun spreads her fiery arms

to embrace, to burn, to bone
each shy squalid heart-excuse.

The rest of us cough like pilgrims
and decant our tales like sherry.



19.57
06/02/09

You buy into it, you lie into it.
You are the bed you weave.

If it could be different
you would make it different:
don’t cry over what you make real.

We are the beginning, we live our
middle ground, we grow the gold elixir.

Somewhere in the struggle I wonder,
yet I never forgive the plunder

of the self.




22.58
31/01/09

Body by cool water linger longer by the minute.

It was dreamtime and I was in your space; brown
lashes slapping tanned features furrowed, coyly.
You were seeking something through the meeting
as I passed the moment to assist.

I knew you were looking through for spirit song
in the books lying still, spine name revealed to me;
yes, I could assist.

I will pass you on your way to where you wish to go
if you do indicate, I did say, and I did make my move.

Somewhere in the shadow ether you will have moved on
towards your target immersed in sea shanty song, salt
dried upon your skin to mark the waves you passed.

I would be long gone.



14.42
31/01/09