unhinged the
mirror,
hung it upside
down,
stood on my
head
till blood rushed
to my feet
same old face
staring..
back at
me.
shadow play
like the kid with a
fistful of
coins,
but no wishes or
fountains of
fish
just his
own reflection..
in a puddle, begging
closer inspection.
i see your face
clear,
not here, but
clear,
i hear your voice
true,
‘least it sounds
like you
are here with
me too,
so, how am
i blue?
hail through a
window-
crouch behind the
couch,
until
it melts–
into a puddle of
much less
trouble..
barely
felt.
he
swung
traaapeze!
ballerina below shook
her leaves
to catch his
gaze..
on the prize-
his life,
in no position
to choose
a wife.
a shake of the
head
dislodges dim night’s
dread
watch it flake to
floor to be
swept-
with any other
clutter
i’ve stepped
over.
a sun drunk
song..
soaked into
pores,
pour me one
more
he who knows
what for?
a sun sunk
under
eyes
midst the stars’
slurred
reply.
a fresh chance
to stroll
road
of potholes-
to dance around
each dark
drop,
eyes all the
way up..
feet in firm control,
until full
stop.
it’s a perfectly
practical
day,
and i’m in danger
of dreaming
it away,
but shower won’t
be scoured,
supper will not
prep,
the fields will not get
get ploughed,
with head firmly
planted in
cloud..
seems it’s up
here
yet.
if this is
living
why’s hairline
receding?
teeth chatter
like
winter’s
visit..
out of season,
just an old
habit,
if this is
life..
time to
live
it.
hands in the garden 
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