immersed
in clear water
my feet
bread and wine—
this becoming of all
that is broken
crushed down
the olive branch
of sonship
almost full
this rite of passage
by moonlight
autumn light . . .
outlines of life blur
at the edges
leaf fall
head over heels
with the mundane
autumn tones—
panning eternity
from all this
all this
what is it
the word
o lifeblood moon!
you desevour undividering 
attractension
russet leaves—
a dream in spring
awakens
lingering sleep—
blossoms endure
through all this
autumn tide—
how long is language
on the way back?
weathered nude—
the sculptor hidden
in no sound
birdsong
where words end
once spent

empty words become me

between dates
the dashes that once
had meaning too
haiku stone—
a lichened epitaph
sketched from life
 
threadbare words—
a chill wind bites 
into autumn
my child!
red ochre stensils
such hands
dark rain—
an ache of worms
inch for me
rusting leaves—
I hear the static
of my absence
all at sea
the moon and I triangulate
the absent

a blue moon absorbed in singularity

full of grace
a crucible 
of moon flesh
birdsong
raising alarm bells
about me

holding fast the blur of grief

fruitless!
neonicotinoids
take their toll
new moon —
stars speak to me
in braille
sea and sky 
edge around
seems of colour
long white cloud . . .
here coldness comes
from the south