The Weft

I cannot grieve for newly shattered crockery nor shed a tear for shards of splintered glass. To simulate distress were hollow mockery. They ...

Between birdsong and dawn night slipped away barefoot across the lawn. Between birdsong and dawn her perfume lingered on to fade before the ...

lightly and lightly adorned in a ripple of never passing invisible out of the now we have known into another redemption, another forever   l...

beyond the rowan (lime green fronds, musician's hands awakening) an olive-yellow poplar (lighthouse-proud, this slow slow dancer) yearns...

Death, you is my woman now. You is all that's left for me since you snaffled Laura-Lee leaving me to wonder how life goes on. OK I bow t...