Thursday, October 27, 2011


Moonless shadows fall
on straight stone paths in stillness
beyond briared woods.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Rory hit the wall with a silence,
like the sound a skull drum shakes.
Rory felt like a clay pot
crumbled before it bakes,
in oven-hot hands that
burn til they ache.
Rory lost grip, felt as brittle sticks
snapping beneath tines of a rake,
without an ounce, an inch,
a peck, a pinch it might take
to understand how
an olive-pit breaks.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

serendipity in a paradox #12

Change


Caught in
autumnal
incessant
hazey heat
reflections,

the first storm
urges
before it
a windforce-cold
sand-bit feel.

Dearest low 
barometric
dive
lifts me
from my seat.

See, there
blown
upon gusts
three turkey vultures
play with it's force,

bringing my eyes
winging
out of my head
so my heart
can watch the leaves
change.