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.
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.
Yes, bench
stone is hard
cold shivers
uninvite loungers
to rest uneasily
before shifting elsewhere.
Still, small petals
amend.
Mantra
whisper books
getting better
all the time
hallelujah hey-ya hey
new days are naked
morning steps forward
into Beautiful.
In the centre
of this pale punishing
room
I stand
free and still
feel heartbeat
rhythms
hear you—
my own voice
sing in walls
On an eve
of disaster
standing silent and true
three windows witness
soft light crude
hold on steady
they took nothing
from you.
Hands of Missing
gesture signs
as you pass
digital choir
sings songs of angels
reach for assurances
your touch
lingers there.
Early evening
quiet water’s edge
we watched
your parade
astonished awe
human clumsy
accentuated next to
your glistening grace.
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.
He wore rubber gloves
linen suit
straw fedora
to the park.
We sat together
sharing mints
watching strangers
pass
out there.
Pencil on paper. Images arise. Message received.