And that bird. She will wait and I will come to her.
I am at one with Summer’s gold
And Winter’s Peace. I feel
No sorrow, nor regret, and with
What little sight I have still, see
What I have made, around me.
Soon the world will be mine
Said the hamster to the cream
Coloured cat. A mouthful later
And the dream was little more than that.
With an agonizing balm
Of purifying discontent
And irrational beauty
I stir and I stir
into my coffee
My unthinking tongue
has been pickled in karma.
I say nothing more.
Water rushes, sweeps.
Tide enfolds as ground moves round.
Feet engulfed. Swallowed.
Hold it in…
Sometimes, Wisdom, she’s a silent witness.
still still still
tomorrow today will be yesterday
Richmond, outside the window five white-red building cranes perched around a patch of grass, like vultures waiting for it to die.
A skinny girl opens the shade.
She doesn’t want any privacy.
I stare at people, I see people in people.
to complain is to show weakness and ungratefulness
if silence is golden
diamond is never again to speak