There is nothing clever about sunrise ( Read more... )

The strategy of seagulls ( Read more... )

An exhausted pipe ( Read more... )

Sign me up,incandescentand ( Read more... )

She held your sleeve;

you couldn't forget its presence

tight between folds
together
as unkempt and orderly
as any.

Yawning as you ungather.

Your heart

in before itself against a shadow
soft against a screen, breathing
slow like the curtains demise
weening itself away from the sill.

The clean breeze and moonlight.

The day now just becoming half eroded
in the dying limelight of your lingering memories

in particular, non-complacent fantasies
tap dancing, sporadically answering
each ambitious dream of the day before.

The sill dust aura of a setting sun

above godless blobs of bludgeoned coriander
bruises mid savannah

lost in the thrush
of this rare spattering

wild with growth and rabid amounts
of forget me not,

bees nested in some fallen oak.

That’s not all folks.
A few bad jokes and a vulture talking bones.

The dead bird ( Read more... )

Each day a new dawn ( Read more... )