new year's dawn
light unknown 'til now
honeys night

day moon . . .
one half of it lost
in the blue

climate change—
the silence of the lambs
gnaws at my bones

temple bell—
the stone cold silence
it conceals

new year heat
my words take refuge
in the glib

making do with meeting ends

just the emptiness
left behind

moon-filled night—
clouds of unknowing
burn within

a divined stable
star-crossed gifts

legal eagle
the fine print appears
less blurred

drop by drop cloud-fall of joy


summer light . . .
this path turns away
from the feast

cave weta . . .
the tenuousness
of light

in flight the colour of what was


cloud fade—
the shapeshifting light
of being
autumn sun—
exoticism blooms
from an oak
this moon too
it all comes to
cloud-choked night—
closed eyes recreate
the expanse
early bird
birthing the world
into which 
it sings
cattle trough—
a paddock jumps
into its sound
night deepens—
just the sound of words
to feel this
where I'm not
shapes twist the entrails
of a cumulus
air moves
to my voice—
the heat
the words I write
stepped over
by a fly
I listen for the tone 
in my voice
from the hole
rise the dull thuds
of our goodbyes
moss script—
the stony silence
now hers
profit margin—
you diss my idols
I break your face
day moon cloud—
all that fades without words
fades without words
unseasonal rain—
in tomorrow's news
the death of today
tidal mud—
the sound of loss
tugs at me
summer clouds
trailing off somewhere
with my voice
dense with stars
night grows expansive
behind my eyes 
day moon— 
your disabled normalcy,
my son
new year heat
the very air slows
to my pace
this consciousness . . .
what does it feel like
as it ends?
dusky sky
wrenching the silence 
from silence
trailing off  somewhere with my voice
       one who lies in here
be done on earth 
     just as it is in heaven
lingering dusk— 
daylight withdraws its last
semblance of order
night of stars— 
the fullness within me
flickers unseen
leaving light— 
the shimmer on the brink
of seeing
summer bounty . . .
city malls birthing
danger zone
my shadow skirts
the obvious
wormholed night . . .
I sleep past the ends
of my dreams
tadpole galaxy— 
I eavesdrop on the drama
played out before us
us and them
taking the unknown
star risen night— 
the depth of longing
still in me