when they came

when they came,
I sucked them dry,

the words bleeding
the overflow of my heart;

in them I am summoned,
in them this ever is

autumn script
another two deaths
not my own
autumn fare
living hand to mouth
on samizdat
writer's block –
rumours of silence
by word of mouth
all at sea
the hermit crab almost
an island
no man 
almost an island
what was
in an afterglow
of what is
winter breath –
a snare of spaces
barely caught
first frost –
water cress crackles
with my passing
first frost
I drive blinded
in light
lip gloss 
the play of light 
behind her words
on my own
the tide came in
now it's out
full shadow
the rumour yesterday
that was moon
deep space . . .
passing between
thought and word
heart of darkness
my eyes peer into
the real me
frosted light –
a poet breaks down
into first words

light before words were uttered

winter sky . . .
need I cloud the issue
with words?
sinking into
a stream of consciousness
my poetic wake
morning fog –
my world once more
without a name
winter illusion
a moa tries standing
upright here
the last candle
the parting
rose-fingered sky
darkness leaves the trees
in silence
taking time
the efficacy
of now
at peace
in a reverie
of absence
here I am 
in an obverse 
of eye

shadows as if absently voiced

a snarl
on the periphery
of ardour
necrophilia –
the ashen taste of Latin
on my lips
a dewdrop
fast becoming
its absence