18 September 2013


At the terminus
Is a space bereft of motion
And a sky not a sky;
Is a concourse figured beyond sight
Yet within its measure,
Seething with its very being.

08 September 2013


I hear your voice in the water's
Divergencies, the turn of the lock
In a plastic curtain's patter:
It's the measure of a pattern in love's ear
That hears what it desires.

01 September 2013


The Times on a table in a room
With a wall of glass I'm not there
Like a frame at the Modern
In the brightest oil simulacrum
Of sunlight to every canvas
Edge, shot with a skein of lines
For the spare inhabitants,
Black as the shadows of a sun outshone
By real light not perceived
But propelled in an absent eye.