A FISH CAUGHT ON THE CURVE OF THE MOON

  Love is a red Russian rose on the run, a bouquet to brush the blues from their burdens. Hope is his hand on her head in the night, taking flight as that blue bird darkens. But her moon was in Pisces and she was said to be expunged by her sensitive soul but in […]

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BLACK IS ONLY SHADOW

  Winter has grey wings, feathers of sodden soot that come from concrete clouds too dense to discern any light beyond. Winter spawns grey wings but spring is an architect of possibility by a canal of colour that sweeps in after the fright of the frost and baths us in a blithe breath that blows […]

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THE BOOK BETWEEN US

  You handed me the book and left, off to another room, another existence beyond my sight, (even sight of that moment was selective), you left me with that book in hand, hand in hand with that room where black edged over white, where comfort was clinical and cradled no clarity (though I wasn’t looking […]

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SOLO SAIL, on a ship full of hearts

  When we to time wish, wings do not carry all words so I to promise must desist, faith is fickle feathers on fragile birds. If love to hearts hold then hearts be more than one must for not is love a concrete mould; stilled the river bed whose reeds rot to rust. When we […]

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THE WEIGHT UPON THE WAVES

  And in the tide tight with time and its turning they left their posts, impaled upon the sand, impressed upon the land. And there they stood ten in heart and ten in tide for time to tend, impaled upon mind, impressed upon mankind. And on they marched up the land and on from shore […]

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DARK LIGHT, PART 2; THE FALL

  I whisper into wakefulness, the body stirs before the brain, the blood before belief, I curl into colder corners of the covers to encourage skin to come round as sound slips in just before the sight, light pours into eyelids slowly opening, toes slip out to inspect the season but the soul knows the […]

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JOURNEYS, PART 17, THE BRIGHT RED ROSE

Rough round that rose bordered hem we ran, regardless of where her skirts did scurry, no fretting to the fraying of her fringes, never noticing how nimble had turned to not-so nifty above that border of red roses, oh so pretty… We carried you, like a child, that day, winter now withered as the bark […]

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