Monday, January 18, 2010


Another long mile. You breathe;
the air is full of dust, the moon
achingly round.
All the words that once seemed important
are now gone, like the bitter
November leaves.
You yearn for the faraway light
of the nameless star
flickering in the dark sky,
both inviting
and devastatingly vast

Tuesday, January 12, 2010


Sleep, now, in the midnight garden
under the shadeless winter trees
Sleep, now, to the whispered rhythm
of the frozen alabaster breeze
Sleep in the warmth of the amber fire
Sleep to the voice that drifts in from afar
Sleep, now, till the morning rises 
Sleep in the light of the silver star

Thursday, January 7, 2010

The Imagined World

Sometimes you speak in a dream
And when I go to you
you cannot remember
what woke you:
a peculiar voice
a sound in the hall
or a burst of silver
in the darkness.
Sometimes I think you imagine
the world as it was before you
before us
a glimmer in the black sky
a distant memory
that returns each night
as you drift to sleep