June 2016

when they came

when they came,
I sucked them dry,

the words bleeding
the overflow of my heart;

in them I am summoned,
in them this ever is

autumn script
another two deaths
not my own

autumn fare
living hand to mouth
on samizdat

writer's block –
rumours of silence
by word of mouth

all at sea
the hermit crab almost
an island

no man 
almost an island

what was
in an afterglow
of what is

winter breath –
a snare of spaces
barely caught

first frost –
water cress crackles
with my passing

first frost
I drive blinded
in light

lip gloss 
the play of light 
behind her words

on my own
the tide came in
now it's out

full shadow
the rumour yesterday
that was moon

deep space . . .
passing between
thought and word

heart of darkness
my eyes peer into
the real me

frosted light –
a poet breaks down
into first words

light before words were uttered


winter sky . . .
need I cloud the issue
with words?

sinking into
a stream of consciousness
my poetic wake

morning fog –
my world once more
without a name

winter illusion
a moa tries standing
upright here

the last candle
the parting

rose-fingered sky
darkness leaves the trees
in silence

taking time
the efficacy
of now

at peace
in a reverie
of absence

here I am 
in an obverse 
of eye

shadows as if absently voiced


a snarl
on the periphery
of ardour

necrophilia –
the ashen taste of Latin
on my lips

a dewdrop
fast becoming
its absence

it was seen
but now the last cloud 
drains away


solstice eve –
my breath torn between
coming and going

solstice moon –
the sun in balance
with its reflection

along this path
I too 
walk alone

river fog –
everywhere everything
matters up

hung out to dry
on a wine-dark sea
my emptiness

at ease
within itself –
melon taste

back as it was
before she left
highway sign

for Franz Wright
the mutter
             through the long hour
             of our death

for James Joyce
Bloomsday –
here how my words

shadows as if absently voiced

fallen leaf –
a chill wind revives
its presence

where we left them
the bedraggled bits of us
we once weathered

cold rain –
the weight of stars
within me

my breath still at the end of it


in this life
to be as transparent
as stillborn