advent a light year to go

the buttercups
in spring rain
just a little frog
liking butter

little frog in butterflight

this jaundiced view of buttercups

closing in time a buttercup to light

Moore's madonna—
the spaces we occupy
seen through too
home to roost
night in-stills itself
within us
advent host
second guessed
in coming
feeling up
and down 
her cross
seed-bedding anew
manifest destiny
writer's block—
his reflection hogs
the limelight

in our image the fog of war



armed to the teeth
with projected profits
an alms-giver
oil slick
over and under
a holy fire

bloodlines drawn out into battle-lines into blood

first school day
on the classroom wall
Winston Churchill
school recess
we scan the clouds
for zeroes
peace-time spring
the future roars through
cumulus skies
Black Saturday—
all things seen
since then
for the first time
the faces that have been disappeared;
leaf crackle in the static
in spring
the leap from noun
to verb
the day
as it was to become
when I left it
hear now
within ocean rumble
a gull's hunger
damped down
by unseasonal reign
failed haiku
US and them
right up to the last 
scattered clouds
the expanse of space
I occupy
always the beginning
the never ending
in Auchwitz cave
the fingernail etchings
of terror
it dawns
the pre-cum of light
in wakening
within their meaning
within so few syllables
these whispers of breath
darkling roost
some bird without a name
calls me out
all at sea
hand scars become
a life-line
old history
a frog delves into
another blank page
my pen tap-dances along 
themes of exclusion
lost to light 
still in longing
listen now!
a decomposer sounds out 
the end of sound
lightning flash
into the other side
of blueness

forcing the issue may I will