The Last Resort
There is a secret hideaway, idyllic, out of reach of poets, where our muses congregate. They gather on the golf …
Soul Fires
The god of thunder pierced the clouds with his electric riff. Prometheus though chained, unbowed, saw lightning strike the cliff …
All in the Same Boat
You’re late! Forgive me, just a little joke I use to put my passengers at ease. Or otherwise some newly …
Warmth
A baby rests his sweaty head against my rising chest. His gentle snoring melts all dread, the bass that leads …
Liminal Space of Dawn
We watch the fading back of darkness edge / sway and feel the shrinking chill on flesh /which lies-or is it mouths?- in cooling air; / averse to moving from our rumpled bed.
Resurrection
A field of grass, a sea of green / where flowers wild, like dabs of paint, / add vibrancy to Nature’s scene –
Mama’s Walking Stick
Where wild abounds and nature calls / a trail winds through a gentle wood, / along a stream then to small falls, / where she met him, and love was good.
Made
What are you, the Human, made of? / From the loving cup of the giant ammonite / the milliard glistening crystals of predatory lenses / the world-girdling scramble of the kelpie’s mane …