[2 July 2019] As wind rustles in long ríver grass, And settles ín dens and lilies and breast; As róots spríng, dig deep down and hóld tíght, always guest When sun mingles with water in glass And pools in quiet places, in the deep, in the crevásse, In pass through in journey to sun’s nest,…

[1 July 2019] Midsummer midnight air is a sacredness all its own – The last relics of era when bygones were still being forged, Cradled in the halls of the forebears of the now, Suspended in the intransitory, Illuminating the hale tongue and the meek spirit: not fire, Not frost, but a light unique to…

[28 June 2019] Let us go back to the time of porcelain bowls and clay pots – The evening sky stretched above us like Indra’s net (A time not yet known, but sounded down through a known, Winding and wounding and weaving together Somethings that meant nothing less than everything on their own) The night…

[24 June 2019] streetlight rain, and eyes grow soft between the plucking of the strings and the lines on the page

[19 June 2019] Submitting itself to the idea that time Builds a barricade against itself, a monument to itself Written large against the five concrete walls that have long since crumbled away, Wreathed in smoke and fireflies and plum blossoms Giving way to an almost that can be eternally grasped In the spaces in-between your…

[18 June 2019] You held my hand that quayside night, the evening sky splayed out before us – scatter-shot like fires of Hebrides enthroned upon an umbral spire. do you think, said I, a time will come when you and I may find ourselves apart? your hand, it trembled for a moment, and in that…