Thursday, 30 March 2017

The architecture of poetry

A word
or maybe just random letters
these are the gifts unintended 
but there is a filing instrument 
again a gift unintended
yes hurt 
can chip away
smooth over sharp edge 
cut clean
and hand over to heart
these raw materials 
with which
by and by
splendid pavilions I make
for who knows whom
if so desired to stay awhile 

Tuesday, 28 March 2017


Rise, roll and crash
then run 
touch feet
and run back

rise, roll and crash
in endless repeat

it’s not the you 
of first arrival
and it’s not someone else

the evening post exclaims: 
waiting for things that never arrived
waiting for things that might come

sifting grains 
and shifting blues 

are splendid places 

for feet to grow old

in the brine of being