pausing while chomping
at the lead of
a pencil,
thinking of writing
but the well’s
run chalk
dry,
anticipating ideas that
get wedged in the
brain wires..
shaking my head in
the hopes they’ll
be freed.
coloursofthesoul
it’s friendships like
keepsakes
stashed in boxes
in drawers
that i should
visit more.
rainbow on a stone
backdrop
i see cracks in
clouds
midst breaks in
speech
and pretend
i spot
where eyes can’t
reach.
it honors the sea
to let her
speak–
your secret’s safe
with me.
the threat of pests
in my place
of peace
chafes the skin and
all beneath
and scratching
offers no
relief.
holding space for
past disgraces
in hands of crystal
pressed to
face
to profess
truths
that return
hurt
to place
of rest
as toes touch
earth.
a feast upon the
wound
to cleanse what
won’t be
cured,
embracing
the discolour
of bruising under
teeth.
time sits
thick
like the smell
of fish
in the back of
my throat
on a broken down
vacation
boat
aimed at open
sea.
shadow
marionettes
on a screen hung
above my
bed,
the fadeout tv set
behind our live
show..
bursts with flickers and breaks
in programming,
who pulls the strings
for what moves the imagination?
feasting upon
flame
to feel desire’s
taste
upon tongues that
yearns to feel
it burn
as ashes
frost the face.
hands in the garden 
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