March 2015

Passion Week—
psalm responses
from the void
just loss
beyond the scope 
of words
diving into
the past's extinction—
mirror moon
last light—
the candle-wax
of words
listening to itself
through me
leafy pond—
the kaleidoscope
of what was
moon-mist . . .
a mirror framing
morning fog— 
the deepening metaphor
of my breath
labouring under 
an illusion of clarity— 
cloud-curdled shadows
spider steps
across her navel
clouds and whey
loose-leaf wind— 
I am become
my autumn
loose-leaf wind— 
I am become
my autumn
heavy with 
night's aftermath
dew-lit leaf
autumn wind . . .
a nocturne rising from
gutter pipes
wind refrain . . .
hollowness gives
wood its voice
half moon . . .
only one month
since the last
clear sky—
my eyes ascribe
a colour
autumn light—
the empty spaces
we live in
a wind sound
through unleavened trees
passes over