My poems are …
A quarter moon hanging from rafters
amongst shattered stars where a blue
bead strings itself between pearls,
changing cobalt to steel.
(I am of the land.)
They are fish swimming in an unseen ocean
beyond mountain view where words soak
my soul in lost shorelines along a beach
(I am not a mariner.)
They are silent laughter in a lonely space
where smiles gather to feast on faces
and colours sing pink morning view,
secured cacti thorns cradle blossoms.
(I am my past.)
They are swing clouds in hazy sky,
dust on chairs and tables, a fire
thrusting its fist into the night.
(I dream telescope dreams.)
They are simply words,