Writing poetry

  • Dark Cupboard

    I’m in a cupboard, peeking into the light. If you looked, you’d see my eye, and I’d see you. All of you. Even your well worn Volleys. Especially those. White. (Not so white at all.) I’d smile, but you’d not… Continue reading

  • Thank Goodness

    I knew it would take me there. To the place beyond everything, the place that shows me, really quite beautifully, who I truly am. I can’t remember the last time I watched Legends of the Fall. A very long time… Continue reading

  • We Are The Poets

    We are the poets. The ones who listen to the bones of the earth. The ones who feel the wind, who know the wind, who are the wind. The bridge to the aching quiet. We build it and we travel… Continue reading

  • Love

    It is a beautiful thing to know love. To feel it burning, aching, glowing; how I have known love is as small as an hour born of its grand, magnificent day. I have loved in many ways. Is there a… Continue reading