Tuesday, 24 March 2015

For * N o r t h *

* S O R R O W * is only when you're waiting for the light to come back. 


Soft, translucent light shoots down from a far-away place
as the landscape turns green, again, slowly.
Pale neon lichen on top of storm-beaten branches
and I remember Vik; snow falling horizontally onto raven black sand.

Soundscapes of swans and deep white stillness
fills up my insides
and I know that it is coming back, once more;
the circle has started to turn.

Friday, 9 January 2015

b r o o k e p a r k

there is a pink-footed light
spilling out of brooke park
against the grey haze of evening. 

you would have been 100 today

and the world has exhaled
secretly;in hope.

I smell the rain above this historic city

and wait for the wind to come;
from the flames.