now open for interpretation

awakening to the depths
like that Christmas feeling
of remembering how it was
when you were learning most everything
for the first time

not the forgetting learning
of later years
where things may stick or not

the sinking deep into
the thick web of connections
swimming in the soup
where sense is made
and the multiplicity of the prism
is rather more beautiful
than confusing

and the slightest tilt
reveals a new shadow
to be explored

into the embrace
of all things
tragic and wild
and inexplicable and
lost and
found

ripples

the blank can respond
to the ripple
the ripple can respond
to itself

the dust can respond
to the wind
the air can respond
to the dust

the heart can respond
to the ripple
the ripple can respond
to the wind

the wind can respond
to the dust
the ripple can respond
to the heart

for reasons as yet unclear

for reasons as yet unclear
this is where we find ourselves
awash amid
bewitched bewildered
sometimes in dread
sometimes escaping into quiet joy instead

for reasons as yet unknown
we have come to this place in time
adrift aswirl
bemused besmirched
reaching for light
reaching for hints that we are getting it right

for reasons yet to be disclosed
here it is that we stand
awake astride
bedraggled bedridden
holding many angles in mind
holding conflicting considerations together
then watching as they unwind

for reasons as yet unclear
this is where we find ourselves

 

 

sunny in the rain

sore shins
and crumpled receipts
a song and a couple of scrawls
such are remembrances

dialogues of
batmasks and
misplaced romances
and epic tales of once weres
such are the times

through salty pools
I see salty pools
and wave to my guide
as I sally forth
such are farewells

pianos and cats
and tales tall and true
uncovering moments
and savouring –
strange how the unplanned
goes the best
and goes farther than
intended
even in the rain

tiptoe

getting some hints
about the way forward
with the repetitive stillness
of the folding of the year

under rain over waves
step by tiptoe step
retracing steps that fell
on other cobbles

tiptoe through the
chiaroscuro;
is it shadow,
is it hiding me?
come tiptoe through the
chiaroscuro
with me
and my shadow

like a chameleon
camouflaged by
the background
thus creates space

we all know
the safety of the cage
the comfort of
being behind bars

tiptoe through the
chiaroscuro;
is it shadow,
is it hiding me?
come tiptoe through the
chiaroscuro
with me
and my shadow

the goddesses of the waters
have returned unexpectedly
characters from past volumes
dusty with life and neglect

falling where the light falls
darting where the light darts
lying where the light lies
calling where the light calls

tiptoe through the
chiaroscuro;
is it shadow,
is it hiding me?
come tiptoe through the
chiaroscuro
with me
and my shadow

 

the human experiment

once we finally
poison and extract and
thrash and burn and
opinionate and gadget
and consume ourselves
into oblivion
and we are gone

the planet will shrug
and yawn
and roll over
and say
ah well back to the drawing board

and the jungles and forests
will come and reclaim the cities
and the dams will crumble
and the rivers flow free once more
and the seas will carve new coasts
and eventually all our leavings
will be ingested by an Earth
ruled by the things that we
in the end
feared the most:
bugs and bacteria
who will learn
how to live off what little abundance
we leave behind
and no doubt they will thrive

because like spoiled children
we could not share the planet
with the future
we had to have it all now

a blip in time
this human experiment

the planet will shrug
and yawn
and roll over
and say
ah well back to the drawing board

not a time for answers

we trek through
the bewilderness
with wonder
and horror
this is not a time for answers
and sometimes the old must bury the young

we walk the halls
and the valley of the shadow
in lands of no maps
or signposts
this is not a time for certainty
and sometimes the old must bury the young

by the river
we walked in a circle
and heard the sounds
of why
and we don’t know
but this is not a time for answers
and sometimes the old must bury the young