Friday, 26 August 2016

That life might triumph over death,
not in some other compensatory world
but here in the forest
and in the here and now.

Thursday, 25 August 2016

Summer nights

You are not
who you think
you are;

the past
takes you in its mouth
like a pearl,
then opens its lips
and breathes you
silently free.

Wednesday, 17 August 2016

I have seen another world;
perhaps it is the wine
but I have seen another world.

Saturday, 25 June 2016

Sunday, 19 June 2016

After the flood

To write from the place where you are;
aware of the dead, aware of it all,
to write about ducks on the swollen river.

Saturday, 11 June 2016

I open the window, wine like ink;
the smell of pig on a wet city morning