Poems published in issues 9 & 10 of Sonic Boom edited by Shloka Shakar.
Sonic Boom is a literary & arts journal that seeks both solicited and unsolicited poetry, prose, and visual art submissions tri-annually. It hopes
to integrate multifarious genres of literature and artwork including Japanese short-forms of poetry, avant-garde, conceptual, and postmodern works of culture and art.

a snail practices
our absence


pine lesson
it is what
it is not


I am now
in your third person
also present



Why was he looking up at the night sky?

In the frost-crisped night of central Taranaki, when light was evanescent at best, he foot-crunched through a paddock to exteriorise the dark that had been suffusing him.

What filled the night sky at that moment?

Just stars. So cold was the air that the darkness was clear and starlight was breath-held in its stillness. The Southern Cross was risen there. Night-dew christened his beard.

Was he seen?

None knew of his presence there let alone the nature or length of his existence.

What could he see?

Only a chill arc of stars, a rainbow of night, creating its own light out of nothing.

Why the tear?

Because he could see as he is seen.

Did this precipitate any change?

He was strengthened to endure all that is still to come.

Will he depict that night in words for others to see?

He will learn how to do without words.

at the end
the beginning
of the end




last post

                                    and the you

                                                we knew

chill winds sound

                                    at once

                                        once more

the bugle

                                    with your





whisper it

                                    winter hush

when silence is an echo

                                    long shadows offer up

of itself

                                    mute evidence




wiping out

                                    blank slate

the last traces

                                    I redraw

of breath

                                    a butterfly's path