Hope for the New Year

New water will direct
All four corners of
The soul that
Wander without berth
The nautics between
Doubt and sight,
Darkness and love.

Looking out on Manhattan from Brooklyn : Thought 3 between Keap Street and Kalm

The water lapped the shore

When Brooklyn was battle

And the only iron was shrapnel

Now water laps the shore

Under engineered thunder at

4:41 and 4:45 and more-

Express thunder chud – feeding stakes

To cheese-creamed bagel picnics

But heat sits

None the


Tending Towards Generosity

Why do we sow and water a patch

We do not own? Is it because we

Know that we and Peace are jeopardised

If our sunflower seeds are left to grow smug

Beside barren pods who cannot

See the sun, blinded by jealousy and

Deranged by the thirst that comes

From sharing Earth with thicker

Roots than theirs can ever be?


In tending to what is not ours, Nature does

Not credit us with generosity, She understands

How truly selfish are her fans,

To share the water, Earth and Sun

Is not Love but preservation of a self

That needs the nourishment that

Giving gives the giver to feed the

Craving for that gratitude and Love

That fills us when we have enough to eat but

Goes lactic as we grow hungry, keen to steal

And fence what we once gave and scattered.


Gas to Liquids


Taken from below

The well of today

Has brought up

A bucket full of

Thirst on a long

Thin string ready

To crack with not

Much weight, Tight



The line’s tug is

Felt from above,

Where the knots

Rub sores on the

Bar of wood

That straddles the

Dead round hole-

Soul drop, below the bar.


The bar is my brain,

Pain is the knot

And the rope

Is my self

Whom I have taught

To expect Nothing. Neither

Bucket life and

But there is more

Rope and more depth

And more pain

And water, too, if

I plunge in again


[4th September 2009]