My name is demanding,
Far too much to live up to
It hover and soars overhead,
Higher than others can reach.
I light the high altar
In temple, chapel and church.
I comfort the dead.
I sit very close to the source.
Close to my hope
Close to my dreams
But this meaning
Is only a chance choice at birth.
No name will ever be me.
My name is so secret
I don’t even know it myself.
I don’t expect to find out.

today the world re-awoke

from a dreadful sleep that came

when the open land was enclosed

this stifling sleep was long and old

overnight the angels came

they pulled down fences

brought back the flowers

that we had killed

reinstated extinct species

undid our foolish acts

refreshed our souls

and rolled back time to Eden

tamed the snake

enchanted him

embraced him with their love

and now all the world is one

Hermes stepped through the airlock

Into alternative history

And twisted our fate.

But it was too late

And so came the earthquakes.

Where hot molten rock

Met Tsunami

It created an island.

Nothing there was reality.

Avian avatars floated in dreams

Around beanstalks to asteroid belts.

With my eye to the chronoscope, I climbed

Clinging to Hermes heel,

Avoiding his wings,

To emerge in a vast hall, divine,

Where the planets vibrate in harmony.

I rest in the sublime

Wishing the gods had stopped us

Or we had listened in time.

Dear Senora de Vinci,

Please do forgive me

I write because I feel most disturbed.

Please let me convince you.

Your sons’ pursuits are unhealthy.

You may think it cute.

I do not. It’s not normal.

Madame, set his direction.

Arrange for studies more formal,

Less focused on strange obsessions.

I recently saw his drawings.

I confess they made me flustered and hot.

All those seeds and stamen, open throated blossoms,

Convoluted stems entwining, copulation suggested

All very unseemly. His eyes strip one bare,

Beyond garments and flesh to internals.  

I feel my morality tested. He’s a boy.

Nothing more. This is wrong. I deplore it.

Madame, explore his mind.

Be strict. Be strong and train him.

And why does he jump off walls

Flapping his arms and kicking his legs?

Madame I beg you, restrain him.

With respectful good wishes,

Your neighbour,

Senora Maria Carlucci.  

My dear Senora Carlucci,

Maria, may I?

It is true, Leonardo is strange.

We could arrange to meet and discuss it.

His obsession with flight is a problem

It’s unsafe. It does seem capricious.

Other boys climb on walls to steal fruits,

But Leonardo’s pursuits are honest.

His drawings distract him from mischief.

I don’t know. His father says he is gifted.

We can’t know what our children may be

When they grow.

I am sorry to hear you feel flustered.

A nice cooling bath is soothing.

I do understand your position.

Moral poisons are drawn out by mustard.

There are potions and herbs for your condition.

If you wish, do come, and see me.

In neighbourly friendship,

Senora de V.

an old rubber band the postman dropped
disintegrates with time and age
meant to bind things together
nothing here to bind
all the letters lost

‘industrially darkened, reformed humans’

my passport with nine years left
rests beside the rubber band
nowhere to go, illegal to fly
paper clips, staples, a badge with a bee
contents of a draw, rarely opened

‘shapes of life, we are the breath part’

in the distance drum beats, chanting
ancestral voices, distant voices,
calling me to earth, to earth
any earth away from concrete
dust or grass,
mud or mountain,
hill to sky,
we must grow,
flower, rebirth

(two quoted lines from John Trudell)

I must give the blossoms their heady scent
even in mouldering, their powers not spent
it can set free a mind and bewilder the heart
I am Pan, this is my all consuming art.

I must arouse the lovers and strengthen their passion
the world is made pure in this wanton fashion
let then be drenched in ravaged sweat
I am Pan, I am the place where dreams are met.

I must call the hart, the hare, the hound
to bring them close to safer ground
they need my vigilance and care,
I am Pan, all life is joy when I am there.

Don’t forget the elder gods.
Don’t forget the blessed trance.
Don’t forget the sacred dance.
I am Pan, the first and last.

on my grave i asked you
don’t disturb my bones
instead you plague my history
unravellings my life
who I was
and did i love my wife
read my work
and let me be
I gave you all my heart
now be kind
i took my bow
now let me depart

Only seven days old and deep asleep

His head is heavy on my chest.

He will grow. Now we rest.

From this moment held

In gentle rise and fall,

The future will unfold.

If time stopped now, I’d be glad

to listen to his breath

and never move at all.

a chair beneath a tree

a pram beside the chair

a quiet cup of tea

the baby looking up

a breeze that moves the leaves

light and shadows play

a precious moment, free

encapsulate this day

May every candle shine at night

In hope of better days

But you must trim the wick, my friends,

If you want stronger rays.

Edna St. Vincent Millay – First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light.