In the Underfill

From the
dust of
of falling
the silent
graves of



Sometimes I wonder,
who is she that looks
back at me,
how many times
have I lived and died,
and what do you know
that you are not telling me?
I have fallen into the dark
so many times,
the humble dirt…
where life begins and ends.
~ What of the albatross
to the Ancient Mariner,
and the window to the
Lady of Shalott,
and of course…
by any other name
I would be the same!
~ My lips are rosy
and my hair is golden,
but a kiss is but a kiss,
for love stays and lust goes.
~ I am here…
and tonight I saw the brightest
stars through the trees,
like winter apples,
and yes, I picked them
and made wine.
~ Love, what of my reflection?
Soon enough i’m sure,
all my answers will be clear.

Tightrope Trapeze

When you broke the bottles
you broke my bones,
the words that never hurt me.
A ghost you could not see,
through your coloured glasses
of red and white.
I would have buried every
jaded bottle for you,
filling my childhood time.
Countless days like stars,
of unsung songs and promised
tales untold.
But don’t worry, I coloured you
into a world of rainbows and butterflies:
You were real to me.
It’s windy tonight…
Stars flickering in the breeze
on a tightrope trapeze,
perchance to fall
and wish as you please.
I could not help you,
with my broken bones,
and the words that never hurt me.

Winter Wine

The first trace
of snow,
falls like stars
silently in the night,
and onto my bed,
like an old soft
memory of love.
The coolness
touches my skin,
and my lips
turn rosy like wine,
your body, melting
into my warmth.
With weightless words,
my breath
pushes them forward,
as yours gently
pulls them back…
Back to this soft
memory of love,
where we glisten
like stars sharing wine,
in the first traces of snow.