supine in fresh fields
hearts beating hummingbird fast
soft stone-flavoured rain
Poetry?
I am a camera person
I am a camera person
you said
and the camera is in my head
tomorrow next year on your dying bed
I will remember what you just said
I am a camera person
you said
I am not a camera person
I am not a camera person
you said
I see I love I perhaps forget
the now is in the present
the future may see the past
I am not a camera person
seeds drift
seeds drift, summer snow
my thoughts follow carelessly
the bees are busy
the bees are busy
sunshine laziness shaming
the smell of broken grass
the smell of broken grass
heaviness of eyelids
foreseeing brief farewell
Acquaviva September 2019
longer
each breath longer
than the breath before
the sea rises
rises
and falls
fresh water springs split
white rock fissures
swirling sparkling arrows
sharp ice pale blades
splinter velvet salt
silence falls
azure enchantment
eyes open wide
the paradise is sea
a sudden dark movement seen from the corner of my eye
it may have been a lizard
or the shadow of a buzzard
I never saw either again
within reach
your skin against my fingertips
your voice across the miles
the memory of a secret smile
and of a lullaby
memories heavy my heart
memories heavy my heart
breath comes slowly and inspiration slower
remembering shapes our future
do not repeat the mistakes we all know
Do Not Resuscitate
You warned me you had thought it through
and if I wanted us to survive
My chest my fists my time
rain washed blue
rain washed blue skies grey
castle battlements shining
my thoughts are autumn
