Liminality was never meant
to be permanent
and the bridges should have either
collapsed or been extinguished
but the shadows keep burning
their eyes into the fog
of time folding itself into new shapes:
iterations in wrinkled paper,
slightly singed.
Undoing
In the deep, dark hours
in the forgotten folds of time
at the bottom of trenches
in the deep, dark sea of space
lie thoughts ungathered
unpolished light of pearls
beams spinning rings
around rogue planet wanderers
pulling the threads out of books
undoing the bindings
of ordinary matter
Moss Moss Moss
moss moss
moss moss moss
yes yes
very nice moss
very soft moss
the snails agree
yes yes very good moss
happy snails
moss moss moss
I want to slip back on
my human skin,
give it a good shake
I smell mildew
and see
it has been eaten by moths
Fugitive Hours
Sleeping in the cracks of fugitive hours
are books and steps and forest floor
forgotten, wrapped in paper
and stowed away for more solid days
in the attic of snail shell spirals.
Autumn Longings, Reprise
When longing has turned into
vines creeping through your veins
unreal places grow into gardens
in hollow chambers left behind
by fog and fire and storms
and the mystery of brambles starts
posing riddles
within the knot of where is when will be
and the return to the unbeen sleeps
under your heavy mountain chest.
Sameness, Serpentine
Sameness turning
from friend into serpent
spreading itself across days:
Ouroboros
of months locked into circles
rivers eating rocks, canyons swallowing rivers, rocks filling canyons
into a flat surface of
interchangeable memory, seamless
new features sanded down by the same winds of their recent creation
slipping by, snaking
past all perception
Autumn Snails
Autumn days sticking to the window
lazy like snails, lounging
in the morning light, jewels muted glossed over in fog
dreaming around lunch
about the dusty fabric of space
in the curtain folds beyond
a glass horizon: time to move on
looking for the taste of
sun-coloured leaves, the fire
of rain glittering on crisp afternoons
and sliding down the window pane
Cosmic Cats
Cats licking the stardust off their paws
after dipping them into the Milky Way,
fishing for comet tails,
those beautiful fins of cosmic shoals:
Thoughts of rainbow scales, iridiscent
remains of supernovae, nebulous
the steps of cats, prowling
in the shadow of eclipsed stars, caressing
balls of planets, unravelling,
dreaming of glittering strings
Autumn Mosaic
In the darkness, autumn lingers
suspended in the gaps between days:
Tiles carved out of time, sliced by
a world idly spinning,
and layed out into a mosaic
on the forest floor, grouted in fog
and polished by the soles
of visitors leaving:
Black holes, flighty asteroids
starfishskies 