Tuesday, December 2, 2008


i rub the glass

in small soft circles


through the

slowly growing

bright coin

shaped hole

through a

foxed and mottled


breathe HAA

then with my sleeve

i rub the glass


Monday, December 1, 2008



sing that song
Mother the one
you sing with your blue
with your milk blue
throat so warm and taut
and beating time
and your breast
your breast so curved
and full your belly
my ear to your belly
your breast i hear
such a soft rush
of life of

sing that song
Mother and let
blue milk-crystal
syllables be baubles

strung between

pink fingertips
pink lips pink

blue milk



this ancient song

, br

this ancient song

made new.

your hands

make birdshadows

beat against a wall.

our pavilion

its silks and streamers

flutter in the chill

breeze of after - noon

await the still

- pause -

the space between

the indrawn breath of day

the slow sigh of night

a moment in time
a moment away
a moment


your hands

make birdshadows

beat against a wall