Blood moon

I heard a bird of the sea, so far inland

A bird of the mountains has followed me

To this desolate mainland, where we live

As though lost to islands deep in the Ocean

On the day of the lunar eclipse a morning bird

Called to me in the evening, but was nowhere

Lost to the sight as it sang it’s song of delight

Dream Stream

The sunken stream lays across the land like a trench
In my dreams I see it, the old snail’s den zigzaging
Beneath the treeline there is only throttled sunlight
Sometimes the tadpoles and coin sized fish see snakes
And the rusty riverbed holds roting mangoes and red seeds
On it’s fringes weeds and moss are quartered
All year round the tree trunks and river side drip water
Sweating in the heat, living, breathing, calling in my dreams

Oh so sleepless

From the long, long river, a world of struggle

From falling deep into the bitterest insomnia my words all muddled

Empty was the hazy night and the water in one long line

Empty of all life, the biting pain of the metal was all mine

In my palm was the skeleton key

In earshot was the rhyme of honeybees

Why would they call so deep into the night

Why did I not know to ask, as I walked into the archaic rite

Upon me befell the lurking beast common to all labyrinths

Upon me feel the fate of all tragedies, heroic strength

Caste aside by fate’s many threads

Caste blind into the silence of the many pathway’s of the afterlife – dead.

It’s hard to be honest

I woke up two mornings with a poem and it was perfect
Line after line without defect
Last night it was because I was upset
But this time the poem was set
And it would hit you with a magic spell effect
My stupid expectations met as only sorcery can let
But out the window it went
I feel like we fought even though we’ve not
And I get that you’re the one I got
But it still hurts a lot when I want a lot and you’re just not
I wish we had fought so I could say I deserved what I got
I guess I gotta let these things wait till we’ve actually met
So maybe this fracture can set and I can stop feeling so adolescent
I wanna scream that’s not what I meant
This really does feel a lot like embarrassment
Can I tell you that I don’t know you but I want you even if you’re a stranger I’ve only just met
It’s not charming or disarming to meet a pretty girl and to look for a outlet
But I’m going to tell you the truth that I like you in the pure stupid way of an adolescent
That’s what I meant even if this poem isn’t perfect


Interminable

what a misty day, my reflection the only one

who I can console, shining in my soup bowl

still sweet, though I’ve lost my way

my siesta with an old photograph

a stone face, was the flower blossoming

your warm breath, under snow

from flower to moss, a chilling moon

what did you drink?

round and round…

went the glass bottle

windblown in the grove

soft drizzle and still alone

Night Crow

Full moonlight
In lockdown
The temple doors shut
But oil lamps dancing
A Jackdaw sings
Too deep into the night
Crow, call again!
Hellfire on the streets
Far beyond what we can see
Over the smoke and moonlight
Past the Temple door
Crow, call again!

Siren Song

Under the shallow stream
On that vacant riverbed
I remember red seeds in the clay
Who spilled these rubies
Like the light on a starry night
Among the snails on the pebbles
Where snakes take to water
But fish do not swim
Upon that empty bank
My heart is trapped
Oh Village of my ancestors
Whose fables are still sung
When I am with my people
I am alone in elephant grass
Dusty breezes folding them
My family a rainstorm
But in the shaky soil
My heart is strung
In the shallow mirror of water
My reflection looks back
Though I live far away
In the rituals of this land
Ancestors are called
Around a bonfire in the night
I, a tree alone, in grassland
Over the mountains tall
Have heard a siren call