July

late light
   the beginnings
         of touch

a galaxy
of placeless dreams
misted over

plastic people flushing our deaths away

life-giving breath . . .
phytoplankton evolve
into plastic

plastic bags
return to sender . . .
ocean breeze

by night i age as a raindrop

within the last words of a paleolithic palm

a frog leaps the missing link between breaths

a leap of faith
refracts
the known universe

violins strain against the precision of silence

here i am taking my time to breach the bounds of now

in light moments

a spot light takes centre stage

winter sun light to the touch

a lighthouse fogbound with distant light

that said there can only be light

a play of light in a single act

the burden of proof it's just light

in darkness we saw the light was good

lightness by moth flicker

a shift into the afterlight

stillness at the speed of light

light verse on the last page just a matter of light

beyond

outer space in the blink of an eye

stars dim through a cataract

there it was finite as the speed of light

a theory breaches the Kármán line

you too can craft a god
imagined into absence

oh wonder . . .
i feel now
this not me

a toddler tiptoeing into the void

a loopworm
out of leaf
out of itself

these words passing their limits

full-freighted words sink in silence

tripping on
repetitive brain injury
high cuckoo

some summer
somewhere strains the stretch
of the imagination

logos trips off the tongue of log

commodification of the obsolete

rising heat
a snow globe warms
to its theme

the sun bobbing at sea-rise

no less and less an isle of man

an atoll submerges into a plastic replica

sure to rise at dead low water

back by way of
the commodious vicus
just about wrapped up

clarion call
(Ras)putin would(n't)
drop a word

heated words in this alchemist's crucible

dozing off the rhythm of my vision

noon-day stroke
analphabetic shock
without pronouns

a tulip waits 
in the silence
before daylight


a river's roar rises 
from the heart of darkness


the yellowed keys 
of a vintage steinway 
gather dust


songs of yesteryear 
seep through cracked windows


a sparrow feather 
stays aloft 
in the summer sun


barely a breath 
the stillness 
of a deer


child lying slain 
by a father's gun


the echo 
of an ancient tale 
now so real


from the belly of leviathan 
he slouches toward ninevah


sunset fire 
its hour comes round 
in the end

Clayton Beach, Portland, USA
Hansha Teki, Wellington, New Zealand