Monday, September 15, 2014


Witness the wetness of leaves,
See how the word world is splayed,
Furrowed with spirals and beams,
The earth’s mastication, its mulch and spit
Comes from something harder, softer,
Sharpening, lessening, leavening with grainy softness.
Darkness containing light,
Sadness containing the sigh of a joy of a child;
Infinite beauty, more and more of beauty
So much that it is sometimes sublime
Sometimes immobilising. Sometimes
The chiming of similar sounds, the wet feet of the rain
On and under my feet,
Is like the poetry of breath taken in and given out
Into an atmosphere, a sphere of fear
Which rears up in terror at itself,
Ducking and dodging its own spears
Erasing its arrears before they can be spelt
Or counted. Before they can be named.