in the moment
there was no winner,
just backing into
corners,
where sunlight could
not reach,
and eyes would
not blink-
despite dust
hanging on each word.
mindfulness
refused the
kiss..
in
favour
of touchlessness,
whether upon
skin,
or of what’s
within,
i
feel
nothing..
but
blanket sky,
no guilt, no shame,
just quiet
rain
in far-off
eyes.
glad you’ve held up
dry and
well,
pleased you’re a flower
elsewhere,
we dreamed escapes
together,
though never found
the time,
blaming less than perfect
weather.
tea taints lip of
paper cup,
mist like incense
ribbons drift
from thoughts-
the yawn that can’t
be stopped,
in blue shade corner
coffee shop.
sitting in on
fictions
not meant for escapist
ears like
mine,
grown deaf to words
that dress the
world
in anything but
feathers.
kitchen chair still
holds your
shape,
though you’ve gone
missing for
all days..
turn grey now
sun won’t
reach
you
as much as i’d
love to.
stale paint
cracks in sunlight,
settling into
today
in a way that negates
time
reminding me that
i’m not
here
and you’re not real
though you
appear.
a pumpkin
smile,
gent tilts his
head,
as if his turn
in game,
on chipped tooth bench,
lunch clasped
in palm,
cloaked in
trees,
shaded by
leaves,
knows not where
he’s from
or how he’s come
to be..
so infant-eyed
and free.
between two
clouds
mother moon births
light
like it doesn’t
pain
to feel change grow
within,
or to go forth not
knowing
where the end will
find us,
laughing, shaking,
ruminating..
or
at peace.
from saggy swing
in curbside
park,
i watch kids choke a tree
to see crows
scatter..
gather, then return
to feast,
from the giving hand
of an unfed
man.
hands in the garden 
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