Faun

Almost a fairy-tale, if it wasn’t true to the word and to the frame. From the sunny blooming shire Right on to the fatal mire My audacious barefoot girlfriend Led me properly by hand With her mellow cheeky laughter, Knowing what was coming after. Silent twilight...

First

In clamps of gloom afore unknown I shall return to my dark home, Fall though the softness of my sheets Where ache remains and thrill repeats. You are the first, and you may see The newborn baby star (it’s me), Who either sings or wails. Who knows What she is craving…...

Pauses

I see time as a string of pauses; and matter, as a conglomeration of gaps. Fowles called poetry an attempt to escape; basically, a suicide, or a “stop” button. Poetry is like a web of trembling pauses. Weaving it is a not so much a skill as it is temptation, tripping...

Stars of Copper

The murk has turned the mist of hopes Into this bitter carnal dust And lowered the deceit of clothes Down to the wrists drained of all lust. In brazen night are barely seen Cape Neck and Canyon Collarbone. A hazy strand’s yielding that sheen, Touched by the moonlight....

Ocean

Sky. Ocean. Seagulls. Cup of tea. Blank stare into the blue. What forces draw someone like me Close to the likes of you? Love mint and honey in my tea; The darling keeps me warm. But with the ocean, all I see Is dreaded hidden storm. I scoop the tide into my cup:...

Last Chapter

The morning was rising up from its knees. It was then falling on its back and singing, gazing in fascination into the eyes of walls turning pale. The dream was generously oozing from afar, tasting like… rain and grass. The familiar smell of ink could be recognized,...