Unsettled

Tears on the fingertips of night:
wetness creeping in, seeping in
settling in
unsettling water, dark and glowing
around the edges
unknown, uncharted eyes
gems lost to greedy depths
horizons blurred, blotted out
maps distorted, torn in their directions
not given
coasts left days ago, still
following ghosts

Implode [Haiku]

Pinprick implosions
collapsing universes
finally, darkness

Thorns

The whisperings of
the grey and the green
taunting me for
the words I don’t see
thorns piercing my tongue
in an attempt to teach
by what is deemed nature
that what is not under my skin

Weathered Old Bones

There’s something old
in the weather today
rain held back, thunder creaking
in hidden bones
the smell of rotting brambles in spring
brown nettles of winter:
decay peeling off last year’s skin

baring skeletal leaves
fingers grasping at brittle future hopes

Night, Settled

If the night was a world
and each nightfall a world ending
darkness the rebirth
silence the sound of joy
all quiet, all settled

Dreaming Sparks

In the sleeves of the dark coat
of night, worn by a tired world
spells are stirring, tiny sparks
still sleepy, dreaming
of igniting new ideas

Burrow

The urge to disappear
again, just a little while
burrowing between roots
beneath rustling stories
where it’s still winter and safe
dark soil dreaming

Absence of Words

The absence of words
and that which remains in the space
of what was lost that had been found
dreams building, rebuilding, unbuilding
small sound filling the gaps
between uninhabited constructs
towers, leaning
waves, crashing
letters in sand, gone missing
possible futures, crossed out
and a silence as alien as human nature

Night in the Labyrinth

At night in the labyrinth
orbs of light reflect in glass
golden glimmers dancing through hallways
multiplied, elusive, hopeful
hard to catch, beautiful to follow
just out of reach of curious hands
images, shimmering
whispering tiny breadcrumb promises
sometimes leading in circles
sometimes ending up in secret corners
drifting, be careful to trust the whisps
but the places you pass are wondrous

Sailing Again

And we are sailing again
darker waters, for now
ink iridescent with spilled dreams
purple and indigo and crushed velvet
sequin stars on loose threads
tangling around hands in jellyfish thoughts
briefly, only, as the wind picks up
and sails fill with thunderclouds, billowing
— ship or gull, we might never know
but here we are, preparing to fly