My First Krispy Kreme 

It was better than

I thought. Much 

Better, so good I 

Think I’ll remember 

It forever. Soft brown

Silk cracking like warm

Ice as I sink  

Down, surrounded by

The softest sweetest cushion

What could be more comforting than

This? Another Krispy Kreme,

Maybe

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He has risen

The hawk flies higher 

And higher until the

Stars become neighbours,

He weaves around them

And leaves a trail for

Us 

From our cages on Earth

We look up and see

Him twinkling

Newborn

You were pushed out

You were shocked out

The dry lightness surrounding

Your private thoughts.


You were clouded by

The vague memory of

Humanity in your DNA.


You are the first capitalised 

Breath before language

Was known, you are


Relatively new yet you

Are closer to the truths

Than Death will ever see.


You are almost blind,

Deaf and dumb and yet

In you hums a beat that’s


In sync with mum’s, that hearts

Everything with the precarious 

Infinity of seeds.

My dearest friend

He passed away. Did he?

Surely he is here? Surely we

Will see him, hug him, be 

Hugged by him again?

I believe he has not gone

He has

 just left his body

And is more present, true

Present, real present, as we

Are, more. He is now more

Both deeper and lighter,

So free that he can no

Longer be

Framed in a picture.

So free that there is 

Not a corner of the

Universe he has not 

Reached. He has become

One and is now everywhere

We are sad because 

We cannot see him, but 

We can believe him and 

Love him forever , as we 

Did before, our dear Dumbledore, Harnaik, Arnie.

The mouse

A little package of furry hunger

Scratching at the hidden

Corners of our lives, dashing

Between a fallen rice crispy 

Here, a popped pumpkin seed

There, a forgotten pod of arborio

Or basmati, no longer safe behind the stove.

The little patter of complacency,

A little token from the underworld,

The wide world outside, the

World of keen smells and  bendy

Eyes, scanning Nature for

Morsels of respite between the

Springs of my trap

Sorry little one, quick one

I am sorry and I hope 

You find another place

To call your own, you

Are not welcome here

Sink back into Nature’s

Raw Peace 

Always

You are my something

You claim nothing

You inhabit no space

In my psyche 

That is how universal 

You are. You are 

The very thread 

Everything is made of,

 I cannot 

Hear you, like old 

Lovers, I cannot

Feel your absence

I feel your presence 

Always, amplifying

My reality.

Back stage romance

I know they think

Less of me because

I am not seen with you

A single woman

A single human

A strange thing

A heavy thing

A pack animal

Alone.

A flat plain

An empty pan

A loose string.

And so alone we go

And it goes on and on

Like Herbie Hancock

Playing to himself,

Cooking music on his stove

Avoiding all the expected notes.