Friday, January 12, 2018


Strip-lit shadows suckle at the sorrowed edge of light,

trace in stark relief the mark of image surely drawn,

hold to earth with visions of the darkness which will come;

so does the day dream always of the distant night.

Emptiness unfolds in shapes which sun does deeply cast,

that calling into meaning and to huddled, crisping forms,

where time dips wrinkled toes in breathing brightness lit;

and as the minutes shuffle by, what was, can never last. 

Friday, January 5, 2018


Breath held, drawn in
and down .... slow ...
becoming of deep
thought, waiting ...
to be released, upon
an unsuspecting...
world, in that silence
which holds court
for soul's full and
liquid language, as
it roils ..... in doubt
and hope, before it
can be ...revealed.
In silence all things
....are born.

Friday, December 15, 2017

What is love?

What is love, beyond that
yearning for connectedness,
the desire to join together,
to unite, establish union in

all forms, become as one,
be held together with bonds
unseen, and unremarkable,
but strong all the same?

What is love, but the slow
weaving of feelings, thoughts,
experiences, knitted into a
shawl of  soul, under which

it is possible to shelter, or
even to hide for a time ...?
Such is love as called by
heart and mind in being. 

Thursday, November 30, 2017


Image result for outback

Through the ancient landscape,
dust did slurry songs, calling
through the smooth, rubbed
hills - beckoning us on.

Scrabbled were the eucalypts,
raddled were the stones,
sucking heat from destiny as
demons danced and sang.

Footsteps fell in slow silence,
dressed in powdered years,
drawing through the soil unknown,
truths the heart could feel.

Bequeathed in endless images,
stories trailed through earth,
clay clenched drowning water -
painted face and breasts.

Distant was the inner yearning,
mournful was time's cry,
joyful was life's great promise-
no sound, but sandy sighs.

Lost in aching age of meaning,
driven deep beyond the cities,
so we walk with shuttered eyes,
curse and bless as we do grieve.

Through the ancient landscape,
back beyond our fear and dreams,
world's soul beats in rhythm-
truth licks lips and seals.

We dance the steps

We dance the steps eternal,
long written in old realms,
remembered now as feelings;
so do we live this world.

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Little bits of life

The little bits of life,
collected, drawn and
tethered to memory,
holding together as

if they had known
their form, before
they existed; snap
shots of time and

being, pressed dry
between the pages
of years, held in
place so beautifully.

Sunday, October 15, 2017


The route we take is written,
no dearth of chances there,
what's possible is limited,
by natures individual, the

bulk of being long decided,
the stars do tweak the light,
but some pretense can drug
our minds, and challenge

who we are. It is in time
still teeming, the challenge
of our lives, we jump into
our being, and shock the

stories blind. For who we
are was long ago, the story
that we wrote, and sealed
in life material, on which

we make our notes. The
play of life is staged and
set, as we decreed and so,
each soul incarnates now:

we live so we may  know.