Wednesday, 14 December 2011


Vincent, are you pretty matey?
Vincent are you beautiful?
Passionate as any pirate,
mad and wonderful?

How can throats not sadden
to think of how you showed
standing at an easel, dancing,
heart as pure as newly melting snow.

Tuesday, 13 December 2011

In the East,

one green blade of grass
far beyond the horizon
catches morning light.