April 2015

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 
russet leaves—
a dream in spring
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
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
raising alarm bells
about me

holding fast the blur of grief

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
here comes everyone
globalising images
of autumn
in the towns 
the rusting debris
of empire

on our wedding anniversary

one bed
for 360 moons
you and I
lights out —
shadows on the street
divining stars
words words words —
always the shortfall
from birdsong
loose-leafed light —
dreams of empire
rot below
light alight 
the ash of words
the stillbirth
of light
wafer moon
between his fingers
a wormhole
new moon
at one with
the night
new moon . . .
a glimpse at nothing
right through it
wordsmith stone
rewriting (l)intimitations
of mortality

exacerbating this nowness of words

in the dark silence
of 3 am
a fall! a fall!
haiku momentum lost
in Latin
voices far off . . .
deep in late mountain light 
greenness rises
of morning
the best of what was
in a word
shooting stars
my sights skew
old age —
cave drawings move
on the wall
third-hand smoke
what was never before
becomes the all
a breeze
breathes about
the absolute
putrid silence
ancient eels sip
the surface
Anzac poppy —
the first taste
of colonial blood
mountain light —
mouthing words until
they do not do
the same fingers
flickering still
to the death
of light
a camera
marking the death-knell
of becoming
autumn tide —
which way tugs
clouds eyes gazing
at clouds
curling sunset
the death toll
of leaves
with each year 
I am less
plucked clean
the plumage of
into a river
the dark matter
between stars
the space of thought
on the ground
a squirrel carcass
fills out 
its own shadow
not quite real
lightning and thunder
while we chat
in sea roar
eyes distilling
for this world
a leaf and its tree
drift apart
my daughter!
for this moment
none younger
morning fog —
the flesh of shadows
cast by words
midnight sojourn
tap tap tapping
hidden springs
of bobbing boats
to the moon
ahh! wide eyes —
the bubble of a word
on a baby's lips
moon, hill, mist . . .
I am 
what I conceal
colonial fall —
every man jack
on his knees
shining cuckoo —
manifest destiny
on the prowl
star night —
just words mapping
the 'I'
word spell . . .
leaves conjure bird song
calling my name
secret room . . .
my shadow merges
into me
mid-autumn light —
from retrospective paintings
colour rustling
the weight
of softening rocks
at dusk
to the sea
the gathering rush
of the many

lights out —
shadows on the street
divining stars

EarthRise Rolling Haiku Collaboration 2015 The Year of Light