
What sea brings in
sea will soon wash away.
Nothing remains here
for more than a day.
What the sea washes in
the sea takes again.
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This is Hole
where light either enters
or exits
a shape that beckons
look up look—
and you do.
Free Will
means no
more choices.
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Yes, bench
stone is hard
cold shivers
uninvite loungers
to rest uneasily
before shifting elsewhere.
Still, small petals
amend.
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Mantra
whisper books
getting better
all the time
hallelujah hey-ya hey
new days are naked
morning steps forward
into Beautiful.
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In the centre
of this pale punishing
room
I stand
free and still
feel heartbeat
rhythms
hear you—
my own voice
sing in walls
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On an eve
of disaster
standing silent and true
three windows witness
soft light crude
hold on steady
they took nothing
from you.
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Hands of Missing
gesture signs
as you pass
digital choir
sings songs of angels
reach for assurances
your touch
lingers there.
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Early evening
quiet water’s edge
we watched
your parade
astonished awe
human clumsy
accentuated next to
your glistening grace.
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Bicycle in
ha’penny waters
him his sign
evening sun
either of us
might slip
but not tonight
I gift him ten
we do not drown.
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He wore rubber gloves
linen suit
straw fedora
to the park.
We sat together
sharing mints
watching strangers
pass
out there.
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Pencil on paper. Images arise. Message received.