Friday, February 17, 2017

This was going to be a piece
Where I expunged the flickering flame of sadness
That fickle prickle lurking
Whenever I take my shoes off
And show you my weird ankles
Or how that nail never quite grows right
But its OK sometimes
When pain slips through the callouses
And sticks between my toes
I may limp for a while
And keep my laces done up tight
But every wincing step reminds me
Barefoot freedom on the grass
Is worth this prickle price

Thursday, February 16, 2017

When a sadness grips me
Asking what I'm letting go of
Is as good as any other tissue.

Thursday, February 02, 2017

Thoughts on What I Need at This Juncture

I need these trees
Which reach down beneath the bones in the garden
And hold something steadier than the dip of twilight
I crave their rough and honest skin
Questioned by relentless Wellington weather
Answering in gentle unyielding bends

I need something
On which to pin my insides
Unfurled in all their flagging strength
To bravely wave when Northerlie rage
And rip at the ragged ends of me

I need a thought
Not my own crumpled creation
One whose breath reaches back to lost Gardens
And bids muck and dust to rise

Saturday, December 03, 2016

In being
Fiercely wedded
To may never be's
Calculate the distances
Strip away the facts
Use the branches for signal fires

Thursday, November 10, 2016

I wish I could tell you,
That wishes were the shape of things
But reality is sharp at the corners

An Onion's Reflection

If you peel all my layers back
I will cry
Flittering, skittering
Tentative, Hesitant
A single shoot stretching
Through so much old snow
A remembrance of things
At once too green to be of this place
And yet too vulnerable for elsewhere

Ice beneath summer's slow touch
I feel the irregularities of each pulse
And find your echo
Still haunting these fragile vessels
Unafraid of spiderwebs
Lest fear should snatch my balance
And I miss you
Before you've even gone.

Tuesday, November 08, 2016

Something stirs
Far below these burns
Words slip
Like a roof after rain
And I,  a moment between
Footing and falling
In the plausible deniability
Of your smile.

Wednesday, November 02, 2016

As easy as breathing
Tough as a soul's dead roots
I hang
On the branches between
Saying nothings
Not saying anything
Just to see your voice
Or live upon silence

I wonder where the green shoots lie?