i still have work to do |
i know that when my day of silence comeswhen on my skin the dew formsand life is gone from these bones there will be work to do there will be work to dowhen remote lighthouse shed their sighto...
Posted by on Wed, 17 Jun 2009 00:25:00 GMT |
Pollington |
As if only a day had passed since we loved and laughedI stood before the families, While Cadets lowered the standards to half mast. Men of all ages wept, and smiled with old teeth;Heads bowed at wise ...
Posted by on Tue, 26 May 2009 04:04:00 GMT |
hen 3 |
We learn
to value the things that breathe
Those
things which move in our lives
Seen and
unseen.
Those
things which turn the wheels
Days and
months and years
The
blackbird was...
Posted by on Wed, 20 May 2009 23:46:00 GMT |
sunday, at rest. |
in a neighbours gardenthe kids unfurl the paddling pool,all its edges stuck from winter restinglast years breath tightened up the inner.it breaks open like an alien,origami, of an unknown thing.clouds...
Posted by on Sun, 10 May 2009 12:06:00 GMT |
mandarin ducklings leap from tree |
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HOLwd9nmB8
Posted by on Mon, 13 Apr 2009 04:44:00 GMT |
I Am Goodbye |
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5__UQbZVcMU
Posted by on Thu, 02 Apr 2009 00:33:00 GMT |
spring |
two great tits met on the brushed out fur of my dog.they gently exchanged a beakfull,two tiny fragile skulls swapped kisses.unchallenged,they met eye to eye.in a single wingtheir lives entwined,for a ...
Posted by on Mon, 30 Mar 2009 03:43:00 GMT |
the knowledge |
When all of the feeling is goneFrom our hearts and our hands and our song,And the bonds of the nations are broken and tornDoes love carry on?I gave you knowledge and you gave me nothingCome here benea...
Posted by on Mon, 16 Mar 2009 08:56:00 GMT |
dusk |
if you take a little time to fill your cupgive it time for me, and i can fill it upit is the proper way,it is the right things that we do,and though still afraid of the closing dayi am not scared of y...
Posted by on Sun, 08 Mar 2009 06:27:00 GMT |
the wooden chairs |
The wooden chairs stopped movingAs time brushed up against them.And the spaces where people once satWere eyeless, revealing their backgrounds.Whitened ashes blew amongst saplings,Seedlings grew strong...
Posted by on Fri, 30 Jan 2009 01:28:00 GMT |
