The Sick Room

i’m a shadow that’s aching at the heartstrings
summer bird against winter winds that lost the herd
my notes fly like wayward kites into the humid sky
and i follow the footsteps down the hall, going up
going up

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Smoke

your eyes were like myna’s wings and dark
with distress and delight stamped into the iris
thin phantom white hair like cotton in the light
smoke above us in weaves and ash scrapings

Lovers & the Sea

maybe i’ll return to port one hazy stormy night
oh but don’t wait for me you need to live this life

the sailors they disappear into horizons wide
and i long for all the freedom i have been denied

Sirensong

oh
salt and cerulean waves under a midnight moon
i dream of coming back here i don’t know if it’s true
long years since i walked along the shore and listened
to the yearning tide my heart was in your hands

emerald and oak

i thought that i could find myself in slivers
of emerald and oak, pathways of leaves
and so i ventured into the woods of your
familiar dust-warmed fairytales
an avid quester.

Gone

Sometimes I wonder about all the things
That I’ve wanted to learn
All those things that I fed to flames
I sat and watched them burn.

Kaleidoscope

i made one as a child of ten
with tinted blues and mellow greens
heartfelt reds
and everytime i twisted it there would be
a miniature crash; a universe of patterns

Enough.

and i’ve had just about enough

of men turning their faces in the street
leers and grins stamped onto their
carnivorous faces

of crowded buses where they jab themselves
at my body like rusting knives; hurt before
still hurts

Hindsight

to all the books i didn’t read
their spines unbent, their worlds uncharted,
to all the maps i never opened
to trawl through dusty cities and temple ruins

Heartbreak

how do i explain that heartbreak
is not in bitter whisky on a november night
how do i explain that heartbreak
is not in blood on glass or that haunting piano waltz

For Elsa

the iron weight of your skeletal frame
in my trembling arms, as we pulled you
down from that horrible hideous hearse
my eyes were burning but i wept no tears
we held you wrapped tightly in white sheets
words were few and far between, and terse

In Winter

in winter
i cover my hands and feet
in the warmth of secrecy
my fingers feeling loosely
the familiar tinge of hell

Peace

And maybe peace is not
A bilateral talk in an air-conditioned room
With high security to defend the privileged
It is the perpetual sorrow and spirit of warring men
And women, their numbers dwindling like a waning crescent

An Ode to Winter

The last dregs of winter are washed away
By a greening rainstorm – outlandish weather
To greet the spring.

For a Friend

oh my friend, my friend
do you know, if i could, if i could
i would walk with you always
when the world grew dark
i would stand with you and wait
for the ascent of the sun
i would be where you are,
i would be what i could
for you.

Surviving

It’s 3 am and I’m still awake
With an empty heart, an empty head
With dim lights and a gnawing silence
And things I’d rather forget.

Ships

my ships leave port gently at midnight
skating the surface of the amorphous sea