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
penning
ultimates
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
after
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
om
ni
pre
sentience
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
rejoice
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