you or I

you or I
speak of truth

but write only
of ourselves

Songs of Cold

Earth’s spine shivers, remembering snow;
inverted atmospheres press white
on the hollow ground.

I know what’s

it’s not glass but I see thru it
with my minds-eye

birds-eye beady on the screen
looking for what it is I mean
when I say ‘I know’

don’t need rhyme…

don’t need rhyme (not all the time)
and seldom if ever at the end of a line
I don’t use it much but I choose it
at random for words and phrases
to ease the flow, to make it go

year on year

year on year trumpets sound

thin notes echoing
fading notes on dead walls

My mother, in her agile mind…

My mother,
in her agile mind,
nurtured clairvoyance;
her tea- and cake-time séances
her mysticism in the parlours of an afternoon,
were the leaves in upturned cups
foreseeing tomorrow.