My roots thus exposed

laid bare for your inspection

an unholy public dissection

on hallowed metal slab


my wrists are tethered trembling

strapped hard to silence questioning

of spotlight

harshly flickering


my heart

now barely quivering

stripped clear from ribbed covering

and clasped in bloodied hands

her clot cloaked cavities

caressed into the bag labelled

“chronically capricious”



Wholly inspired by the wonderful Anaïs Nin quote “I am only responsible for my own heart, you offered yours up for the smashing my darling. Only a fool would give out such a vital organ”.

A Cloud Canvas

Would you let me paint the clouds for you?

long, languid strokes

lavishly spread

over fading azurite blue

with cosmic brush dipped to ferrule

heavy with heaven

dabbing ashen shadow

betwixt amber wisps

and tranquil towering iced tufts


a masterpiece bestowed

for my melancholy muse

heart unknown

To catch a Star

This night I near captured a star

nestling her reflection

her still water perfection

with calm hands

cupping her brilliance

her light years’ resilience


but with mortal impatience

my fingers start to tremble

with ripples of longitudinal shear

betraying intentions assembled

and her lustrous nocturnal glow

fuses as molten silver

slipping into the cool depths below

The Deaf Heart

Because my heart would not listen

i chained her to the railway track

strode away with nearing train whistle

deliberate footfall

i did not look back


Because my heart could not listen

i bound her tight with coarsened twine

blindfolded her gaze so long pleading

disowned her as no longer mine


Because my heart does not listen

on a field I leave her for vulture prey

but instead of carrion so tempting

a bird  lifts her cloudward



The Bleeding Sunset

This exquisite pain

cannot be tamed within

it seeps through my pores

pools like acid on skin


it’s stencils are fingerprints

etched indelibly on glass

brought up to dry lips

soured wine now will pass


it sullies my vision

all sunsets bleed red

dawns dim, not brighten

to your darkness








Moon Song

Wake up…

I’m the light at your window ledge

the translucent dimmed rays

by yonder garden hedge


I’ll soothe you in delicate lunar shine

as tendrils a twinkle over eyelash meet

cajoled in dreams to be ever mine

then drip heavy with nectar, my sweet


Before dawn I’ll fade into the infant blue

slipping gently from the ebony cloak of night

toiling with tides as I bid you adieu

a love weary, cratered satellite



Image courtesy of NASA, December 1972. The large crater near the center of the image is the 20 km diameter Pytheas,

She is

She is

not of this place

she will

sidestep and skip, rather than shuffle

with phantom souls

turn and thrash

against the currents of indifference


The “do not walk’ sign means run!



Not rusted iron…

her ways are daisy chains

intricate, scattered

along dusted lanes

fragile fragments oft failing, falling

as a virgin pale petal array

skirting ankles


She will force a smile when tears begin

swallow the pain whole

to a raw within

be brave my dear

stay with pure intention

for outstretched arms await


and to them




I am the "little armored one", moving gently through life. Hoping to safeguard my sensitivities with layers of words and the expression of thought. Shielding my mirror neurons at times, or tasting music and spinning till I'm dizzy. Every moment here is a gift.