Let us talk
about the stars,
and where we fit within
the vista of being.
In which, we go naked -
skinnydipping existance
and diving deep
for miraged pearls
in the sea
of who we are.
Let us close our eyes
and dream
of other things,
of happenstance beyond
the dull thud,
the daily numb
of common ways.
Let us meditate
on awakening.
Let us reel-in
the swirling cosmos,
hold its beauty
like snowdust
in our hands,
raise the soma
of life itself
to our lips,
and whisper.
Let us ...
understand.

A u b e r 

He liked aubergines.
Not just for the taste -
but also for their look and shape
like silk bells stroked by moonlight
in extacious growth.
He loved their colour too
like the edges of neon in rain
or passion in the summer dusk.
Curved like a marble womb
in the palm of his hand.
He liked aubergines,
and so do I. .




W a i t i n g .

The sky is taunting us
Spreading its muddy fleece
Smothering the shoots and spurs
That call to sun.
One minute overjoyed
In the glow of spring
But then, snatched -
Like a mistaken banquet guest.
Why, oh why
this grinding pause?
This reckoning of season sums
Beyond patient warm and blue
Greying the clarity of hue -
Our cravings for rebirthed sun
Like cries from fallen souls
With weathered flags and so much need.
So much wanting, so much desire.
All, waiting to start again. .



L e a p .

Tell me how
to make the leap,
the hop from here
to where I want to be.
Show me how
to arc my thoughts
to someplace
new.

Help me
scale the hurdles,
jump the fences,
cut the bindings -
banish gravity!
And I promise,
I'll move closer
to the island
that is
you. .



S c a r e d          o f           W a t e r .

I was thinking about you
All your things in readiness
Held in a drawstring bag
Clutched like pearl and trove
in netted treasure sack.
You, looking so ... little
And scared in the blue
Of losing cool and shine
Of forgetting who you are
At the mercy of cold hands
Lying passive and waiting -
How like a fish jumped
Into strange waters!
Minutes rising, countdown's pull,
Of meeting bloodied dark
Of growing fate through stir
And current that tugs and calls
Like black queen crawfish
Moving in a mystery game.
How cruel such creatures are
That make me think of you,
Sifting the night sounds
Tossing and turning but not moving
Stilled beneath cutting sheets
Of ripple click and midnight tuck
Of care that feels like harm,
Pin-dropped cold in the pool
And drifting, where no-one knows.
But yet, I think of you
And time rushes as if water
Flowing free the crusted hold
A return to whom you know
In joy of being - of belonging
Back to friendship's spoils
And the untethered laughter
Of good times swirling endlessly
Like unhooked river trout
Playing in whitewater smile.
I was thinking about you, and know
You will race the stream again. .



H u s h .

This one's for the quiet ones,
the ones who sit and wait -
the people leaning at the back
depended on to take the slack.
This one's for the mild souls,
the some who stir no wave -
the some preferring calm
to seas not yet as plotted brave.
To reticent hearts, to those
that softly speak - go prideful
in hushed guile and gentle leap,
on the path on which you seek.