cycles of remembrance
do hang on me for a long time now.
I think remembrance creates trust
and trust makes wholes emerge
and perpetuate.

Do you think about trust?


These are the words she wrote me;
a story-girl making paper-planes
of words to fly like storylines.

These are the words she wrote me
to respond to the words I once wrote.
She flies back at me like a full-page mirror
that I read as my reflection.

Little to compensate except for
those storylines that lie as labyrinths
of our lives: stories within stories

where we each learn what is trust.


17.21
9/03/10

I do not breathe;

breath runs through
me as I be a witness
to its path:

I do not act
although my belief
tells me that I do.

So I think that I act
as forces beyond
compel my movements.

In each thing
we participate
yet in ways

foreign to how
we have been
trained to know.

Eyes open blindly
we choke on air
as we sink to swim.

There is grace
under each stone –
in every breath.


17.00
27/03/09

Arms holding
in the madness
tight

as wind blows
howls

wraps around
strangles slightly.

I can sleep
although
her body too warm

and sweat sticks
for no reason
against my slumber.

Why she cannot
shed her insistence
for these coverings?

Madness
in the night’s
hot embrace

holding tight
as wind curls

and chimes ring
hung outside
like silver bells.


22.22
23/03/09