Still The Empty Pages

Years, covered in a few nostalgic pages

Time, that passed almost unknowing

Sufficient still

To create a further invitation

There is time enough left

To rough out a few half worn pathways

This poem is from the collection 

Leave

In place of daydreams I retire instead

To my recurring

Past caring obsession

Where roof tiles

Lillie-white roses & gazebo's are absent

Plentiful are the wages that protect my urges

Years of blues sustained

By the unlimited shades of blue

This poem is from the collection 

Involuntary Pomp

These words are my aromatherapy, the rhyme strategy, if such a thing should exist would be my massage oil; the open spaces where reader, and writer alike, are encouraged to wander... part of my clear hope for an entire lack of politicised commitment, & should form be used then it's shape and patterns would be my very blueprint, or touchstone for how I, or how anyone, might then become a constructor or alchemist, able to dream up their own healing potions... with such ideals I welcome the singular words of love or beauty to stand ten feet tall on the billboard, erect and firm as the forewords of poetry’s very own, imaginary instruction manual


A personal response to reading Adrienne Rich’s address on commitment, in the bathtub at the end of an exhausting vacation

This poem is from the collection 

Constructs

Put a fix on it
Work through the motives
Wake with names on your lips
Be engaged with the day
Take a positive fix

This poem is from the collection 

Ceremony

It is a place of shape and deportment; families of ancients, and families of now
The young Gatsby impersonator tells his grandpapa of the truth of his homosexuality.

There are sharp intakes of breath at the five sided table; that all those years of creating wealth should have come to this.

The ceremony is over; sharp suits, floral dresses, silks, satins and famously feathered hats make their way through the we have seen better days gardens

This poem is from the collection