The Leaves that Fall on Dreams

It’s how the light falls
On picture frame or dark glass,
The potter’s floss of words
Or memory’s discarded stash.

A sudden glimpse that fracture makes:
This is where I try again,
Where the leaves that fall on dreams
Sway on instead, enjoin their soundless song.

Day-talk breathes less than promises.
But it’s how the light speaks
Back to us instead, between breaths
Of endless time.

(16 March 2016)

How I wish the sun moved

Even knowing that we
Are the bodies in motion

I want to believe that this
Is the sun reversing course,

So certain in how it seals our days,
Unlike inconstant shadows

Haunted by their dreams of dreaming,
Burst by a minute’s leaving.

Patient, they hold their scribble shapes
Acting out secret pantomimes

Between rays, hoping to outpace
The endless sweep of tugging days

Until gravity’s yearning hand
Keeps these restless secrets turning.

(October 13 2015)

Before waking (11 September)

Gazing light shears through
This peeking gash

They seem to be multiplying
These murmuring goblins

Unfortunate that I,
Curtain-ripping,
Gouge eyes in their fabric,
Distraught menace piercing
Tired sentries.

Each careless slip raises
Memorialised regret, self-spoken
Promises on certain accidents
These sprouting holes
Appearing like some sleight of hand
With unsympathetic ease
At my touch
Pulling, testing the integrity
Of these fickle bonds.

Self-doubt: tempting to peel
Away in a single gesture
Hold tight the reigns
Bullish matador:
Seize, grip, swish
That singular unspoken breath
Before darkness is stripped bare.

You startle at these little fears
Parting gaps and loosened edges
Threading thoughts together.

Doubts first start coming apart
At the seams.