Sunrise there, way over there,
Way over beyond where the earth bends its shoulder
To see where the morning might come from
Sunrise that colour, the colour of that flower,
That flower, oh you know it,
That flower whose heads hang on the sunken green footways
Where carts used to trundle
And the cumulonimbus, the clouds that a child drew,
The clouds of a fluffy-inked ankle tattoo,
They now frame the distance of soon silver linings
And the sunrise lightens my darkness.
after hearing the voices
and stories of pain
my brain needs power-washing
with sunlight or rain
waterfalls split rainbows
flow upwards
the sound of the sea in Aphrodite’s seashell
the rushing of blood in my ears
I stood in a room full of emptiness
my eyes closed
a breeze or a breath
touched my face
I heard voices
silk stitched enchantment
summer flower unfolding
most delicate of touches
The hawk sits high, undisturbed.
The chill April breeze is its driving force
as it falls
like freedom
from the skies.
The rats again will scatter
dark starbursts
into the hedgerows into the drains.
The eye of the hawk
the power of the people
the rats will never taste triumph again.
standing in the sun
I photographed your shadow
you waved me goodbye
Giò’s fingers drip day-lit sparks of luminescence
from below, scaled sea dragons eye the surface
effort
effort
the sail lifts away from the water
and suddenly
and silently
all is air and the future
hold your hand open
palm up
luck and starlight and magic will fall
while you sleep
hold your hand open
as you continue to grow
hold your heart open
as you continue to grow
celebrations of the happiest ending
fuchsia-tinged mist on sprung heather
silence broken by distant voices
carried on wind to us
across the water
