October 2014

moonlit lake —
the doppler effect
of black swans
bee loud tree
plum blossoms aquiver
with becoming
twilight hush . . .
shadows lengthen
earth scent

above the shadow crushed under 

under fresh green leaves
my daughter shadow fingers
with the play of light
vine stock
spring enters me
through scars
at the window
deciphering the code
of spring rain
a poet
awaiting song
doodles eggs
first quarter . . .
the light tonight
lukewarm too
coalsack . . .
shadows well up
to the cross
dead low water —
I circumnavigate
my comfort zone
night wind . . .
all around the sound
of not being
in such light
silence develops the taste
of music
Southern Cross—
spring light infilling
a gasp, a moon
before this
I am become
the sacred
hazy moon
hinting of intimacy
shadowed sheets
puff by puff
a dandelion's space-time
night vision . . .
words like a cancer
gnaw through sleep

a butterfly aflutter the wind within

stone walls do not freefall blossoms sprung