what horizons await us, what skies fasten
to the bright ambers of our dreaming bones?

our love, water trickling over
a pebble in a stream,

the whoosh of  
leaves and a shadow in the dark,

the ghost of a poem
written in a dream,

the splendour of the tide,

both everything and
nothing,

our love neither a poem or a sigh,
all the winds battling,

spring's blue moon waiting near the
water for one slow ripple to reach
out.

—————

someone’s hands were on me.

I could feel one rip through my chest
It grabbed hold of my heart and started twisting
I felt a scream escape from my lungs
But didn’t hear a ******* sound.

I can still hear him growling.

My hands have been shaking for days now
My bones so jittery I’m surprised they’re not clacking together
Shattering to pieces and piercing my skin
That would be nothing compared to this pain.

he was stronger than he looked.

It surprised me regardless when he weighed me down
Drugs on his breath and then on my skin
Leaving purple marks that screamed anything but consent
To remind me of what happened.

he didn’t ask.

He didn’t speak kindly to me in the way that one should
He was forceful and rough and tore through my flesh
Blistered my skin and rusted my bones
And I can’t get rid of him anymore.

so here he remains.

i.

spring's grey moons
everything is still
the hush of the skies.

ii.

first new buds
white cloud of hawthorn
morning's broken ghosts.

iii.

strengthening sun,
iron and feathers sky,
bird like a speck.

iv.

blue edge of sky
sunlight on flashy wings
empty world.

v.

clouds of drowning white
blowzy sweetened breeze
tall grasses sway.

vi.

first spring gust,
shadow on the earth
song of the rain.

vii.

surreal morning tide
hurrying wave
kiss for my love.

viii.

tide going out
seaweed-covered rocks
cry of a gull.

ix.

sea-spray hits a sail
anchor lowered down
ropes thrown to shore.

left behind, beside
shadow lands and winter roads,
the lonely heart grieves.

(Sonnet)

Under the primrose stars, the lovers
Lie abed, on green, threadbare croft
Of sleeping daisy, clover and moss,
Trails with hushed air, an embroidery
So fine as to stitch blushing heart fall
And wrap the waters full of quietude
In graces, winding, soft, granulating
Time, wings flutter and hum, winsome
Sparks, fire white, flying as little suns
Burst confetti, in sweet encampment,
Of grass and sapling wood, innocents,
Charmed are wholly twining, in moon
Rise a lantern to the winking heavens,
Out of their skins they are climbing.

My father and I
lie down together.

He is dead.

We look up at the stars,
the steady sound
of the wind turning
the night like a ceiling fan.

This is our home.

I remember the work in him
like bitterness in persimmons
before the first frost,
and I imagine the way he feared
the pain, the ground turning
dark in the rain.

Now he gets up
and I dream he looks down
into my brown eyes
that may as well been his.

He weeps and says goodbye,
my son, I don't want to
go yet, but I can't wait
around to watch you die.

All of these words
formed without breath
is magic against death
and all of this ends
with to be continued
I wave so long
with a handkerchief
to the horses on the range
of my dreams
and every scene is sculptured
from wood with splintered
fingers ruptured
with the blood of my brothers.

in my quiver
are arrows of song
words to pierce
all hearts who hear

The fog is dense
The sky is crying
Little droplets of sadness
So dark and dreary

Find the light
Through the darkness

As I hear singing in the distance
I look up and see a cardinal
Singing sweet music to me
I found my light through the fog
And the darkness....