Day 13 – Night

I lost what waking is

in that street lamp dream

jagged shadows burning everywhere

reflect a raining window

shattered breath

dragged out with garden twine

embroiders the spaces in the silence



retreat to the pavement eiderdown

to lie brokenly

under a sky

whispered with tattered fleece

guitar strings reach for torn fingertips

bleed their blues over

beautiful cracked voices



what it is about you that crawls

around the edges of unconscious

only, something in me wonders.

I do not breathe

But the dust of your love has me drugged

not even the crumbling velvet,

has seen such a torn night

Day 5

                                    colour rushing
                            past my bedroom window
                   gathers empty cobwebs, dead dreams

Pinkness #30

You have these dreams
scary dreams
that leave you unsettled
and in denial of life
but you know they are
just dreams
and then one day
they are not just dreams
one day you are paddling
through your life
and you get
your feet don’t touch the ground
anymore and
your reality is no longer real
you are in a spaceship
with a passenger
no more loneliness
a comfort of two
love and need
and grace and mercy
and charity and faith
are all bound together
hope has already been fulfilled
without you asking
it happened silently
in the darkness
of a womb

Blue Haired Man #24

After we made love
all I could remember
was the guy who said he was the moon
he wasn’t really a man at all
I must have fallen asleep briefly
and dreamed vividly
But he was more real
than you

Gathering Firewood #18

That last autumn
it was dark
moody and exciting
hungry and angry
waiting was a thrill
fired by the first drink
I wandered for hours
getting lost and falling
in the dark
all the time listening
for the sound of
an old diesel truck
one night the cows got in
and we met the neighbours
we thought the wife was stoned
I lost the goats
you didn’t come to help
and you lied about the cheese
that was the silliest thing
and pretty sad.
Its autumn again
24 moons later
and the darkening evenings
and the cold bite in the air
and the wood I gather for the fire
are as filled with you
as they are with the smell of woodsmoke
the snap of dry willow
and my rusty old dreams