You call yourself a seeker,
forever forward-reaching.
But, you are not seeking.
You are fleeing your fear.
The Paper Kite
I climbed that hill too soon,
step-by-step, to a greater height.
A frozen wind caught my coat
and carried me away,
like a paper kite.
Climb, Sweet Ivy, Climb
You can dance and sway
like the old willow tree.
The moon illuminates
your tranquil face,
as I watch, in silence,
like the lonely stones
beneath your feet.
The Great Moving On
The last
of the bindings
are breaking.
Signs of Life
Give me such signs of life,
that I am rocked and swayed,
by gentle bewilderment.
Her Roar and Glower
Between heartbeats
and the bursting
of tiny, tide-washed
bubbles, lurching
drifts of seafoam
cling to black stones,
whilst screaming, “No!”
into the roar and glower
of ol’ Atlantic’s storm.
Gold and Honey
I remember
your warm skin,
like gold and honey,
dripping against
my tongue’s tip.
Westerly
The way westerly
is a road of healing.
Heart-wrenchingly wounded,
I will flee, ‘ever-feeling
the weight of a love lost,
unrequited, but faultless.
The Mountain Crown
Held high-aloft,
the mountain crown,
so crystalline, so cold,
fretfully encircles
her ancient brow.
Ruminant
Intoxicant.
A vanilla-scented
ruminant.
Faraway
I dreamt
of faraway
shores.
Anastasia
Anastasia, at rest,
the dancelight is blue,
closed fist, she raises it,
thumbing her nose