my mother veiled
in black

sat in her favorite chair
with her hands folded

over her rosery
she reached up

touched my face
and whispered

you look thin

such is grief
that bottomless reserve

that endlessly open wound
the pain  

has faded greatly
but its barbs
  
still live
with potency

and surprise  
they still dwell

in the dark corners
of dreams

in the secret places
of the heart

autumn apples, gone from
the tree, a few this year.

coxes then , singly in the florist,
basketed among the flowers.

lunch at 20p, rattle the pips
to make sure. slice neatly white,while
watching the wind strip the leaves.

this is an autumn apple. break time
in the staff room. only the pips are left.
to grow again.

there is a line
between

the songs
of love

and the songs
of grief


this is what the silence said


there is a line  
into out of

the horizon
of earth

and sea
and sky


this is what the silence did

3 of us.
one at one end of the bar,
the other at the opposite corner,
me in the middle.
we are the ones that
didn't learn from past mistakes.

store clerk, janitor, fortune teller,
Insomniac, lost soul,
who knows.
truth is found in the silence
of minding your own business.

we didn't come here to talk to one another.

the bottle or glass
held with fingers too tightly.
the bottle or glass has a kind heart
understands
this is sanctuary
from memories stitched to bone
like shadows scattering....

(a flash of lightning, a splintering boom)

and then she walks in.
a rift in the barrier of worlds.

she bends the light, deepens the silence.

she spoke with a voice like the morning dove
with a melody that forgets your name.

she glides. each step deliberate, unhurried.

we turn, and bone shadows in a hush
whisper,
" beautiful"

and she knows it
too well.

the dream walker
lifts the veils of moonlit memory
and time unthreads
into the first shiver of love
that lures men to madness.             

and now done, suddenly
she turns around,

and walks out the door
(a flash of lightning, a roll of thunder).

the blinding white light
our hollow sky in disarray....

..."bartender, get me another double, and one,
for my 2 friends.

Charlie was in the hospital dying,
unconscious, and he says,
I'll have a margarita."

"hey, I knew Charlie."

"me, too." and then he says,
"my stock broker..."

you drink a beer
without memory
I look out the window
silence surrounds us -
I can't decide: is it
a casket or a hatchet
we are stuck inside wor(l)ds
without seeds

through blaenau, orange now,
bracken competing with slate,
winning a while, as leaves
fall.

to conwy, the road
rising above the flow,
one tree remembered.

two calves run down
to the others. on arrival

admire the quality of
bunting hung here, cotton,
with spots. there is a festival.

we had a meeting.
nine circles.

I need a break —
A break from my thoughts,
From people,
From everything around me.

I'm tired of everything,
I need a silent 365 days,
Just to cool,
To calm ,
my soul and body.

as if          mining silver
from the very air           that swims
            just above their
traveler-hooded crests ||

heads, meant for dreaming
     :
of the bonds between all                   distance .


prism dust ||
passed like
  the     swapped     civilizations    in     your
                            spit-
         from lip to lip .



ferried                   through

a
weary, unknowable path  ||

              outofwhich,our
[outstretched eyes form the terminal bud ]



-

it catches your mouth about to move
and fills
     it
with opalescent
tributes





 
it,

_

   stored and released


in the dna
circuits . in
vellum and
stone

||



in breath, body, and their respective undoings.


that which
keeps     
      reading          the stairwell


keeps.  and is kept.