Wielding needle as shovel She wrote with nectarine fingers Scarred by nicotine & crown thorn Womb reliquary of bloodied warfare - ‘Am I digging hole or grave?’
Is writing act of loss? Beyond seeking, leaking curved verbs Onto windmill tips, flood until body flat lines - Tending cemeteries where ephemeral died Fragments still, Nothing more than chapter obituaries: It is not the death the parchment promised.
Once the skies were full of witches Low flying flock of brooms sweeping ...
Continental shelf tilts Edges of book she will wear On platform closest to the sun. It was she who stopped me Sitting on cold library steps.
Sea spray seduces skin As iced diamond-dust A Pollock-shower numbered Love to desire to lust.
Lighthouse sniper shotguns ships Blood ribbon kites flailing in turbulence Together, we turn towards ballad bullets: It is all of the light Sultry incandescent, Born from candle seeds That grew here and gave being.
She dreamt of becoming fin & bone Or perhaps, an aquatic genetic mishap, Mermaid dreaming of walking alone. To become the sea, Drunk on ocean Sangiovese.
Thin edge of wedge, she Slid down the plughole Bathwater swept her into sea; Floated past Europe, o’er Arctic ice Until Japanese pearl-divers pierced her As samurai’ed seppuku, into flaked Sushi for seiza Sumo with slurping appetite.
She looked tasty wrapped in rice & seaweed Spooning a curvaceous king prawn, Well salted and Shinto sated. ...
Washing in batik skies Tidal belly scrapes over shingle Cobalt swimmings turn blue Shades of arc(h)ed existence. Fluting along whale motorway, Crashing roll, strangled berceuse, Collapsing lungs of caved yearnings Since all hearts were soaked in daesin oil. From the beginning forebears were diving for pearls.
On wet sand my bow breaks Collecting pebbles in bistre bucket; Moving crab-like, soft sho(r)e shuffle, The beads chime as Shakti bracelets Swinging from...
Poor Father & me – Pour forth craclin fire into hearth To warm knuckles Smoke out blood lined secrets, Sit tight in cropped semi-circles Tongue-craft sail storying breath, Imperfect enough to keep survival flowing.
Mouthfuls of broken glass - Smash whisky tombs into embaying embers. In everyman Fern Hill Under valleyed verse Boughs bend towards secondary sun Gravely glade stones form bascule bridge What force of storm uproots trees, unending? Seeds of light that grew Here and gave being. ...