Thursday, 18 October 2012

On the last day,

after all, it’s not been
too monotonous
or momentous either.
You stare out from a
window that isn’t
what it seems.
Nor can you be seen.
You finally got
that reality is

All you did get, after all,
was to stare awhile and swim like a demon.

Reality transforms from warm to cold,
wet to dry, then rhythm to

Birth and death aren’t gradual,
after all.

Monday, 15 October 2012


In early April, cruel showers
turn and splash and fade,
without a plan or auto-cue
or credits rolling at the end.

No sleep is possible in this wind
- memories of camping rain
spatter and splatter and splat again
my rooftop tingling brain.

Memories! A tent flapping,
ghosts insistent for remembering
- calling but uncalled for.

Almost, they breathe, look,
aching for texture
as wind and rain let up.