—A Terza-Rima Nocturne of Swallowed Time

On moon-damp sheets, you slowly open my violet fig, passing halves tongue to tongue,

its seed-pearls, captive minutes embraced by our soft lips,

each velvet pulse a swallowed clock tick, unthreading the night’s camisole—unstrung

Our minutes take root inside our souls, night’s vines in green hour’s gentle grip,

soft pods burst open, ...

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Indebted

I took to watching slow dying sunsets

Marking the passing of the dawdling day

The trees casting their stoic silhouettes

Counting the golden currency each ray

bestows upon my mood and mental health

keeping the braying doubts and fears at bay

Accumulating natures gift of wealth

hoarding value like a miser stores gold

a solar bank that aids the commo...

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Long nights close in as harvest time is done,

When Samhain calls the sidhe to rule the night,

And careful ones the darkening forest shun.

The faerie folk may now come into sight,

And souls of forebears tread familiar trails,

As anxious kinfolk cower home in fright.

The Otherworld doorways this night will fail,

And off’rings to appease must now be made

To keep the ...

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Arroyo

The rain has fallen down for twenty hours
from a dead sky of slate and granite hews,
dampening the walls of urban towers.

Cobbled streets the colour of an old bruise,
tyres rattle over pothole dark drains,
counterpoint to some distant splashing shoes.

The day cast in monochromatic stains
as water forms itself into a lake
that eddies into inner city lanes.

A passing car cre...

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