The Cult

Happy New Year

some sparks will fire
to dance out of control -
O how that thought relieves me

Fait Accompli

Such chapters over now
How will the words define us?

White rooms stand vacant now
Sharp corners to remind us

Bruises bloom in tandem
Just below the surface

From black to royal purple -
Only dew completes the Iris.

- Debbie Calverley

Intemperate (Take Two)

Stomach knots the way he left
me still wet with a grin
slightest of wind shifts
such blue cast eyes
over polar


such rules as hands retreat
from knees such hat-trick clouds
such impermanent shapes
stiff with sand


sticks and half-names
how slow creeps resentful
tide
Oh the tide --


yawns at dawn
greedy for everything

Here's Looking at You

Intemperate

All at sea with the way he left
me still standing with a grin
slightest of wind shifts
blue his net-cast eyes
out and over different directions

such slow retreat of hands
from the roundness of knees
such hat-trick clouds
such impermeable shapes

sticks stiff with sand
unfinished half-names
scrawled into tides

Oh the tide --
yawns wide
greedy for everything.

Hard Floors Feel Soft

time to feel nothing
but this grope of whispered word --
crawl to me through dark

Daisy Haiku

today he loves her
today he loves her not
tomorrow he might

Becoming Haiku

submerged in the bath
she lifts up her arms to trees -
branches drip with rain

Sketches of a Nightjar

Souls disguised as eyes
paint flat the backs of moths

flee unencumbered
into circlular sounds of moon

from deep inside a mix of woods
across brackish perch

a whippoorwill begins to tone
of death and twilight

whir of up-catch
transport to soul departing

silkworms devour
clothes of those still living

Günter Eich Apocrypha

A pretty girl asks
for my autograph,
delighted! Except
it's her cigarette
she wants signed,

then lighted. Think about it.
I do. And am
for a moment
the happiest man
that I have ever known—

I have seen my end
and it is someone else's
body, breath
and lovely
inspiration.

FRANZ WRIGHT

Found

Beneath scraps and heaps
an old lover's shoe

Christmas Haiku

turkey took 6 hours
I wonder how young it was?
they all leave older

Surprise Haiku

unexpected treat -
suddenly you were with me
even though you weren't

The Gift

The day my mother dropped a net
of oranges on the kitchen table
and the net broke and oranges
rolled and we snatched them,
my brother and I,
peeled back the skin and bit deep
to make the juice explode with our laughter,
and my father spun one orange in his palm
and said quietly, "This was Christmas, 1938,"
said it without bitterness or anger,
just observing his life
from far away, this tiny world
cupped in one palm,
I learned I had no way
to comprehend an orange.

SEAN LAUSE

Warmth

He needs to be happy -

as I wind stockings 'round
his craggy skull
he says:

That's all I ever wanted.

Outside the Window

Inside, we see her clutch at a blue towel
or it might be a small blanket. His hand
moves up towards her bent head, a lock
of hair is pushed aside. Her brow is furrowed
cheeks flushed, body tense and nervous.
He tilts her chin we see him mouthe words
either tender or vicious, we cannot tell.

It’s the way her eyes flash in the candlelight -
that line between hate and passion that we cannot
draw. She clutches his left hand, briefly as if
she may topple, for a split of a hair we think she
will crumple like a blue blanket into the wrinkled
circle of his arms. But then he pushes and she
staggers backwards, smacks her leg into the small
wooden table, The blanket falls to the ground.

All of the photographs
in their little silver frames shake
-as if he had fallen to his knees.

Letting Go Of

violet spills
lip to tongue
crystalline fires
fever pitch throws
gigantic mad shadows
candles on the pine
walls licked by magic
separate beds
dust collectors
everything nothing
chance not taken
-- not forgotten

Perched on Pisa

The Moon Observes a Snow Angel

She lay star-shaped
black coat
open
naked against
snow
melted on hot skin
softness fell
into her hair
white water stars
froze on her lashes
cradled
her mouth moved
against black skyscape
flakes teased her tongue
exposed hungry
to taste the night
lips charged wet
arms, legs
whirled into shapes

come closer

his face over hers
watched luminous
like a moon

He licked at her lips
and watched her
transform

Untitled

branches dry and brittle
her season turns cold
frost forms on windowpanes

Satellite of Love

Race to Dakar

She sits in front of the glow screen
watches the men race to Dakar
through dustbowls of death they race
wheels wobble engines groan eyes
circulate and re-circulate fear
desire and pure exhaustion and she
wonders if the race is like explosive
orgasm as his bike crashes as he pants
wheezes breathes swears shakes
ignores her text message to

play it safe

into the pure splash of knowing
that he could have just died

but goddamnit
not by her hand.

Dislocation

Such sudden change of season here
a thick blue spruce the only relief
from this snow blind world
of white everything.

My mind spirals back to a stone
path in Spain flanked with colours
awash with length of heat, a taste
of hollowed out melon filled with port.

At sunset, a rush of tide and we ran
to the balcony thrilled at the sight
noise and force, push and pull
musical suck of water into sand.

Sound of a shovel hitting ice
wakes me and I know -
I will always be turning corners
to never find you.

Sometimes

I will give you a slippery slope
a gravel road that takes you
down into ditches
if you drive too fast and don't
concentrate - please don't

stop

it will just ruin
everything.

Lost Haiku

It was there at 6 am
clear as a spring lake -
now lost in morning mist

The Beach

starfish on the beach at dawn
the tide rolls out --
such tiny breaking hearts

Quiet

She loves him quietly -
while all the world
screams at her to stop

Shy

when her night comes again
through thin shy curtains--
he will no longer be dead

Tide

Fuck ebb and flow
It's all about the wave ~~
Catch it.

Hab

If I don't get one soon
I'll surely die
from lack of heat

At Oscar Wilde's Tomb - Paris 2005

Untitled

At 3:00 in the morning
the phone rings --
her night explodes into voice

Snow

Sky has strewn diamonds
across the yards
such tiny unseen hands

Liqueur

drinking amaretto on Sunday
I really don't care
if he finds me too sweet

the Killers reply

But heaven ain't close in a place like this
Anything goes but don't blink you might miss
Cause heaven ain't close in a place like this

Slap

should only be heard
when a fish jumps -
in pure joy of a leap

How Do You Know He's Real?

He asked me
pointing to his chest he said -

I'm real.
I know you're real
I can see you.

How do you know he was real?

I could only close my eyes
and try to believe.

Frozen Gin

Now I keep my gin in the freezer
next to a book of poetry
that still holds all the heat of Greece

Watersheds

That afternoon I smuggled lavender
behind his ear the weather was full
of bad intentions, although the sun
appeared to crack a smile.

As clouds began to scud and form
poems we were decoding became nothing
but kaleidoscopes of light and shadow.

My eyes swept up to read his face
- but it had already changed to something
unreadable and I wondered if the story
that was my face was dividing too.

I knew there were no more words
only other sounds he will not utter -
spilling into different oceans.

Still

In the back of a cab
back of her neck responds--
his words glow so softly

Idle

empty car pulled to the side
door thrown open --
he walks the road alone