all black scrum—
the darkness within
in three lines
a mud crab
digging in deeper . . .
tidal shift
spring twilight—
prayer germinates
in silence 
green light—
who am I
in spring?
whisper breath—
I am who I am
candle flame
spring water—
I reflect within
the without
mist shapes 
an ontological 
argument
deepening dusk— 
the devil escapes
the details
darkening words— 
a frog croaks in the sound
of itself
a helicopter
crystallises into sound
from the blueness
rising light— 
clouds effervesce along
day's plimsoll line
crescent moon
a smile of benevolence
goes awry
grey matter 
on an intercept course
between seer and seen
after a spent day
words sink back into the slime
of their origin
deep prayer
spring water rises
everywhere
the stillness
after the birth
unravelling star charts
All Soul's Day
the combatants tally up
their losses
cancer ward
nothing imagined now
is not the moon
 
in memory of H. Gene Murtha 
star gazing—
the emptiness
of it all
fallow ground—
harrowing the hell
of being