Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …


posted November 7, 2014

(NB. a new arrangment of two poems)

i. la dangereuse

Few things are as beautiful as reindeer moss,

        glittering and drenched with frost; or the rattle of chestnut
brown leaves against the fall blue. Or the full lit moon, casting

        fleet, slip-away frostbows like evasive dreams; or my sister
hydroplaning in a midnight storm and wrecking her car.

ii. la noyée*

The last piano music I heard my sister play has just begun –

light through the greening heather of March, the distance between sprig and  rain

– snapped to a standstill in refrain: the rain falling, the sprig in a vase

and this in shadow to dissuade loss of colour, put out of the light

that final music: her hair untravelled by wind, curled up, kitten-thin.


posted November 5, 2014

You've not heard from me,
the hush writ listening to
rain, to fall, to you.


posted October 7, 2014

The tumbling compass
doesn't stray, nor the lighthouse
darken turned away.


posted September 10, 2014

Of mind to entwine
like the first time day after
day the long white page.