1986-90

These are some of my better early poems.

Truth Eyes

Screaming crashing flashing
surging drumming thundering
soaring diving…
Skyward hands and raptured face
Truth eyes gaze unmoving from this frame.

Dragging me under and I don’t want to fight it
Then lifting me up and carrying me
but not like waves
In the other direction
like a rip
But I’m not going to swim to the side
like I should.
I’m going to let the warm sea wash me away.

Truth eyes gaze unmoving
A captured instant shows
Makes me shiver
Breathless
Glued
Led on a rope (gently)
Magicked!

(First published in Heartland)

Wink

The tree in my neighbour’s yard
is awake!
The breeze fans her,
sends purple sparks springing
out and down.

The tree in my neighbour’s yard
is green, grown, beautiful.
Curved, supple, tempered and strong.
She answers the warm wind with a quiet laugh.
Her speech is smooth. She does not blush.

The tree in my neighbour’s yard
is moulting, dissipating.
The wind loosens leaves at intervals.
I never see the break: only
one second, the fluttering;
next, the whirling.
I can’t pinpoint the instant of death.

The tree in my neighbour’s yard
is skeletal.
Her structure groans in the icewind.
Gravestone or ghost?
Purple buds wink.

(First published in Pixel Papers)

March 12

Winter? My ears feel cool.
Cool, smooth, dry.
Winter? The air is rainy.
Rainy, breezy, sweet.

Corridor smells: coffee, light, voices.
Bustle, concentrate, murmur.
Whirr.
Keys type. Numbers generate. Diagrams draw.
The beach will be empty; lonely; peaceful.

Winter? My limbs are clothed.
Clothed, covered, safe.
Winter? The city is watered.
Watered, lighted, shined.

Winter is memory. Dark. Wind, rain. Lights in the dark.
Scarves, nights. Enclosed feet.
Winter is then. Buses, splashes. Carpets, boots. Static
plastic chairs.

Music, music!
Winter is better music than this.