Your invitation didn't note
that masks were required

when I joined your
October masquerade
I came naked face
tender hands
as we fluid bonded
within the musical strains
of our mutual pleasure

and when, beneath
the soft snowfall
of November's ballroom,
our eyes danced
as you kissed me still
I thought the catch of your breath
revealed a beginning
rather than obscuring an ending

see, I only had eyes for you
I didn't know this
was less a date
and more a party
animal themed
within the savagery 
of social niceties.

so when you donned
your magpie plumage
plucked from the
epiphanies of summer
I couldn't see that 
your corvid gaze
was looking through
the kindred spirit
of my teal-winged eyes
parading postures
before the empty room
all my held space
afforded you.

I didn't hear
that masked owl
in the shadows
preying quietly with
taloned words
and the contortion of
turned head retrospect,
a romantic kind of danger.

for you see
owls kill magpies
and every true magpie knows
there is safety in numbers
in mobbing threats
through built tribe trust.
I long ago inked her
long-tailed clan
upon my back
to have my back.

still, my thin skin
is no mask,
my magic doesn't come
from costumed defense.
It has always been
humbly present
in my close kin connections,
the way I unmask myself.

imagine then, how small
how vulnerable I felt
as you unveiled
the hidden world
of your masquerade
while I stood
in the center of
all the lavish word finery
an unadorned fool.

after all
every magpie knows
one is for sorrow

they find me
these broken boy men
by the isolationist culture
that created them

they sit before me
their words, trauma, and light
(but never their tears)
into the chalice of my understanding

my mother instinct
has always been strong
the space of my holding
soft. vast.
Wendy in the never (ending) land
of lost stories and souls

they think I am safe
I am. and I am not
for my mother love 
slowly dissolves 
the dissociative magic of stasis
gently coaxing infectious pain
to the surface
to be felt. heard. healed.

this is my gift
and my curse
the creation of safe space
for unsafe self-truths

each time after
as I drive home
all the unshed tears
from the eyes of their
desensitized PTSD
spill from mine
a transference counter
to the complex lonely needs
of my grown up heart

He bullies me still
long past the carnage of divorce
in barbed words and cold dismissal
of the stretch scarred landscape
of my motherhood.

He writes and rewrites
the history of our together
as though his pain could
change the tangents of time
As though he was the
the colonial author
of a story that isn't his;
figments to justify the
the bitter taste
of his vulnerability

I watch quietly
as he dismantles my past
a tiny dictator desperate
to control every narrative
even as they fall through
his tightly clenched fingers
as irreverent as wayward
grains of sand.



In the midst of the crushing
my mother love turns inwards
soft edges of hard truths

She says:
my fierce wild one
your determination is
tautly built bridges
of traversed hardship
Strong grip 
tempered mettle

Your determination is not what is needed in this.

Your love is
deep cavernous callings
of transformative connection
Dripping notes 
heart-strung songs

Your love is not what is needed in this.

Your shine is
bright searing exaltation
licking the edges of night
Smouldering words
burning catalyst

Your shine is not what is needed in this.

My dear one
forgive the solitude
of your singular voice:
one will
one heart
one light

Forgive your vulnerability
your humanness
your limitations
and let go.

that raw resolve
bleeding heart
blazing light

to the magic 
that is so much more
than this one 
small moment

The wind is singing in the trees, the night swollen with untamed mystery.  Every moment with you has a timeless quality, as though I were searing them each in real time into the storied memory of my deeper self.  The wind is in the trees, the sensation of that wild power already enmeshed swirling in the lingering taste of your ravenous lips; entangled in the incorrigible pounding of my heart through my flesh.   I don't want this to end, the way I experience you as both an evanescent moment and an incandescent promise.  I don't want to watch you leave me, I want to draw you back with the magnetic pull of my fervour for you.  All this and more fills me as I watch the curve of your back, and the measured steps you take towards tomorrow.  The mist of rain tingling on my skin.  The tendrils of my hair lifting ever so slightly to the turbulent sea of air all around.  The heat of your body still rising within me, like a waking dream.  The expresso cadence of your voice still sliding down the softness of my wanting skin.  The notes of blue morning running through me, subjugating me to its insistent truth, that I am yours, already oathbound to our visceral connection.  

During the long days
orphaned thoughts float
through currents of mind
I want to write beautiful words to you
to paint the colour of my desire;
the depth of my love. 
I want to be the reason your laughter fills your room.  
Yet it is the minutiae of day
that become the weight-bearing bones of us
small cells of time strung together
to create the shape of our forever. 


If love is stripped in layers

peeled in tiny ribbons 
of shredded dismissal
from the casing 
of hearts home
If love flakes away
in such small increments
dismantled by time and neglect
until it is nothing
but the dusty artifact
of a lost emotional civilization
Then surely it is also built in layers
a spackled patchwork
of small moments and small words 
that seek restoration 
rather than ruin  
that build upon the 
good bones of what
already is.
Surely each thoughtful stroke
deepens the colour rich
art of we
until the two of us 
are a living mural 
of our already shared life.  
The imprint of your fingers is on my skin, last night lingering like a thin meniscus held in place by the subtle tension of my longing for you.  Your words tell me you want me, love me, desire me.  Your words ring in my body like a bell, and yet it is your fingers that spill love notes onto my paper skin.  Your fingers tracing the shape of the space I inhabit, as if you were learning the contours of me.  Your words, a gift, and yet your body had already whispered what your lips were afraid to say, that you have lost and found yourself within me as deeply as I have within you.  
No-one has touched me the way you do, as though I were a sacred landscape to experience rather than to cultivate.  As though I were a sacred song that you let vibrate the strings of your being rather than plucking discordant.  You delve deeply my love and I cannot help but feel that you do see me, your eyes rich with light and shadow calling that chthonic sacral swell within me.   A call, primal and true, to which my body answers over and over...and that song, ringing overtones of rightness between us.  

You fit so easily

into the minutia of my life

As though you had always been

hidden within the colourful threads

of my woven life.


This is how you come to me

sparkle of silver within

an already full life. 




intuitive call of body magic

weaving spells between us.  



moonlight shimmer on a darkened sea

quickening the moist edges of tidal longing



alchemy of emotional synchronicity

merging so bright

—so soulful—

that I cannot imagine that we were ever apart.  

I wanted to tell you I love you within the first days.  I didn't, holding back, afraid to rip the delicate tissue of our still merging filaments.  Each night as the elixir of your voice-- sweet as harvest wine--filled me up I wanted to overflow into your arms, into the softness of the space you held just for me.  I ached to have you, all of you, within me, around me; to welcome you to find home within the landscape of my body.  Torrid words rise within me, endearments still moist from the wants of my impatient lips.  Still I wait as an us slowly unfurls, a transmutation so precious, I want to to cherish each subtle shift; each sighing moment.

conjoined tidal song
resonating from within
the deep waters of time

Yawning ebb, 
yearning flow
between the life-shores
of our liquid connection 

To me, 
you shimmer
the goddess held magic
of dancing waves 

Sun glitter
within swirling patterns
of sensient reflection 

An initiation
A call to mystery
the blue swell rise 
Of synergy’s currents 

You are

Wind singer,
Lore keeper
of the shared world
I call home

we lay fallow in each other’s arms
dreaming beneath the cocoon weight
of the people we were 
within the people we were with 
we lay fallow 
having seasoned the harrowing
of past love
fallow within the dormant scaffolding
of resurrection

too soon the gentle light coaxes
a wakening to tomorrow
seeded beyond
the quiet field of us.

for a moment I remembered
a different you 
than my storied perspective 
of a shared past

I remembered
and all the wounds
of youthful indifference
into the fortitude of your lean body
so beautiful in the moonlight
it hurt to breath

She tended you like a garden in the desert

Roots searching beneath sand and time
for the long drink called love
always just beyond
cracked plains of an arid heart

You were so thirsty, ill equipped to
persevere through yearning droughts
The taste of scarcity still sears the edges
of expectation

You know
Plenty is a season
An abundant face hiding the long bones
of want.

There is silence in the cracking of things unseen
In the disintegrating threads of the memory of love
There are some words that cannot be spoken,
That cannot be given shape within the edges of consonants
Thoughts drifting like lost continents on the sea of separation.  

I open my cupboard and inhale deeply the comfortable smell of coffee.
This is the mark of you in my life
for I never developed a taste for bitter
Even you,
sleepy eyed before the wafting tendrils wander
through house and dreams
nudging your mind towards wakefulness
even you cannot claim you have a taste for bitter,
heaping sweetness as you do
letting each beautiful granule dissolve
No you do not let bitterness mar you tongue
you taste only the complexities of sun on leaf,
loam of time and place,
tiny signatures painted upon your lips
and I, immersed as I am in this tender world
of steam and pressed ritual.
They say scent is the doorway to memory
I stand on the hinges of space breathing in
each lingering marker of you
And smile.

I parent alone now

The anchor weight of
of each fragile floating tear
drags me beyond the distance line
into murky depths
of sleepless night guilt

Even the buoyancy of joy
bends within me
a pressure differential
between what is held inside
and the external landscapes
of the word “family”

There is no us
it has sunk beneath
the deep
Litter too far fallen
under the pressure of our past
to ever be safely recovered

I don’t miss you
I miss the decompression
of a partner
the equilibrium of ear upon word
of a shared knowing
that breathes
with equal force
past, present and future
all balanced on the thin edge
of together.

Moment pass
dissolve like bubbles
of air into skin and bone
I must keep them all
written on the fragile shoreline
between memory and time.

Singular I am a guardian
of all these passages
I worry that details
will slip from my hands
droplets flowing back into
a nameless ocean
of solitude

You left
Told me it was impulse
the spontaneous desire to be anywhere but here

Later, when I cried
you cited grief & sadness
a bibliography of loss
to support a conclusion
of laissez faire uncaring

there is an irony here

You stay there
experimenting with happy
a rogue scientist
leaving behind the rules
of evidence

From a distance
your statistics are inherently flawed
manipulated madness
from a sample of one
There is no causation
only loose correlation
between reason and desire

I have my own theories
observational studies
based on patterns of loneliness
that I use to extrapolate
the probability of my own significance

There was never space
within the lean lines
of your fortitude
for even the question
of me

For insistence of words
or persistence of presence

I asked
held myself taut
against the buffeting wind
The sound of
differences between

Answer enough perhaps
in the lonely exhale
of your breath and mine
The howl of our
disconnecting pressures

She sleeps in your bed still
A fragment of half-remembered dreams
Feeling with no substance
Her words linger, cloying
A perfume opening sweet
With high notes of memory
Taking leave in a finish
Of bitter let down

She stalks my phrases
Haunting nuance
Laying upon my meaning
With the subtle
Doppelganger smirk of
"I came first"
I want to peel her
from my skin, my words
From the shape of my desires
Pull her distortion
From my anger
And claim what is mine
Without the need to defend
Against what was hers

She will fade
Mist dissipates in the heat
of the morning sun

I watch, wait
For your eyes to stop
Tracing the imprint of loss
For your ears to finally stop
Ringing with the resonance of remembrance



Your singing eyes pull
The arrowed lines of time
Feathered edges
Dragged memory
The bowstrung song
Of a name quivering beyond&
The shape of my lips

Each mark jars
Loose a remembrance
Jagged thought
Pierced continuance
Splitting the furrows
Of these tree ringed lives
Colliding concentric

I am struck
In your marksman gaze
Shaft nested
Heart shot
Welling with the droplets
Of our remerging
Bright as the fire sung blood
Of distant music.  

Time drips slowly
Into all the cracks
Of fissured hearts
Broken anguish


I am as Orpheus
spent of my song
that I ripped
from the fragile casing
of my tears;
from despair.

I am as Orpheus
walking towards a tomorrow
that is behind me
told not to look back,
not to let my torrid eyes
rest on the face
that calls to me
from within the dreamscapes
of memory

I am as Orpheus
begging the makers
of time and fate
to grant me this one
one stay of execution
bartering conditions for
the smallest margin of hope

I am as Orpheus
haunting this ghost town
moving through desperately
believing that you
my love
are behind me
one breathe away

that if I just keep going
through this languid story
that somehow I will find
the strength to hold on
just hold on
until the darkness falls
away to reveal the light
of your heart stepping flush
against the beating wilds of my smile.

I am landlocked
Held cracking against
The parched lips
Of an extinct sea
whose name was desire.

I lay myself moist
Before hard edges
Of unforgiving horizons
While the ancestral
Memories of tides
Pull against
Sadly crescent eyes

I chant my name
In a piercing mute cry
Lest I forget
In this shriveled bed
The strange sound
Of my lush singularity

Remembrance is
A slick coat
Easily slipped off
To skirt the shores
Of abundance
But impossible to mold
To the drying hands
Of time.

I am of two
Worlds flowing seamlessly
The quickening surf
Between shadows
Of was and not

I once danced
Like moonlight
Upon wet sand
And knew nothing
Of arbitrary lines
Called possession

Now I wither
Held static
To a form
And dying for want
Of the inconstant sea.

I am catalyst
Alchemist of changed time
Transformation of need
At this accelerated
High reaction rate

There are habits
We call morality
Laws written
By unseen hand
On the infinite limits
Of infinite possibility

Was it my orchid eyes
The rawness of lips
That refused to shape themselves
to the name of your god
That made me dangerous?

There are cages
We call love
Bars taut
Beneath steel lacings
Of a corseting fear
for lost possession.

There is power in naming
I could not deny that
On your lips my being
Was a songline dreaming
Worlds into creation

There are paradigms
We call truth
Blood squeezing
Beneath the beats
Of a heart electric
Within righteous magnetism

When I love you opened
To time unconditional
I knew I would be
Beyond social decency
Absolved into shameless abandon

Once we were a single language
Tasted on two tongues
We knew the landscape
Of words

Upon the edges of crumbling borders
The semiotics of we forked
On dialects of difference
Unraveling meaning

A heart cannot speak
To ears clogged only
With the dust of remembrance and
Extinct phrases

Time has ways of wearing
All the structures of love
Into nothing but sand echoes
Of lost conversation

There is a space
When tidal blood
Rushes outward
Pulled past the bruised shore
A moment of emptiness
of a heart unfilled

It knows
Knows that death comes
not in blows
but rather parched expectancy
in the dry beds of holding
It doesn't take much
to lay a heart flat

even as songlines fill
flood home in joyous influx
to a heart singing
It releases
in perfect trust
held breath draining
to stand bloodless
on the edge of death
or rebirth.

crescent cut
from taut silken twilight
colour bleeding upwards
cradling the wax negative
of light slipping beneath
the fences of night

before birdsong
and the sound of day
pouring molten over
the eastern shore

I sit
chilled quiet
eyes closed
the feeling of you
hands reach
into grainy silence
as though you knew
and clasped

There is nothing
just wind of space
my heart sinuous beating
an electrical storm within

I come upon your truth
Unheard in words that
Are casually dropped
Into layers of meaning

There was no cataclysm
Worlds end
In a lowing despair
That is far more shattering
Then shrieking carnage

There was never
Enough space
For all expectations
To come into themselves
For love unconditional

Even gods can’t give
The thin mouth of caveats
Integers of love dependent
On such delicate circumstance

I come upon it
And lay as cold stones
On a lilt-less plane
Water pressed from
My bedrock heart

Day opens

Cracking night at the seams
Seeds of light falling
Through rice dreams.

The dripping notes
Of night’s reverie
Are images beyond day sight
As tendrils of feeling.

The lost words are
as the pressure of sound
Holding me
While the content
Is licked away
By the winds of dawn.

Your love was an absolute
Which should have been a comfort
But wasn't
Steel-edged, held to a law
All onto yourself
While I messily drew
Equations out of quicksand

It should have meant freedom
Instead it was a trap
Each word carefully placed
Within the rigid confines
Of Ockham's explanations

You quantified, measured
With a hard held ruler
Units of supremacy
And said
"I love you more than you love me"
As though a heart
Could be weighed and found lacking

I never wanted a defense
Against the fortitude
Of your gaming belief
That each logged action
Priced word
Was a point won or lost
Within the culmination
Of love's adversary

Because your love was a line
Met or crossed
But never a circle closing
Around understanding
Around forgiveness
Around the infinite
Varieties of self in other

It begins and ends with you
This feeling
Thirsty desire met matched
Drunk with eyes
Crashing through time
Holding space taut
that I might fall
Damply endless
Mirrored in the shape of
your lips
Softly creating my name

It begins and ends as light
This collusion
Fitful coursing veins
waves, particles
things that are and not
Colliding to colour saturated
Tears of relief
In knowledge of polarity
Bonding open edged against
your heart
Curved pulses of pure gravity

It begins and ends
And thus never begins
And never ends
Though I remember red
As our beginning
In truth, we never began
Rather became
And when these star-dust bodies
Collapse as dying suns
The black hole weight of my love
Is only a universe created

Beginning and ending
Alpha Omega


It is swift softness
unheard wings
pulling a line
of death

It is sharp lucidity
razor revelation
born where darkness
meets light

It is clawed penance
pressed indifference
formed to mete
sophomoric justice

It is cruel love
held hostage
teeming with battered
words unsaid

We ascribe so much
to something
which is nothing
porous space
defined by absence

In your silence
Is it you
that is absent
Or I?

There are never enough
stretched moments
to cover my naked love
To clothe
To map the contours
Of possibility

constrained by blueprints
to life fulfilled
to boys meeting girls
to bells ringing
and seeded rice dreams
of forever

holds its secret irony
sitting messily
outside boundaries
A beggar of questions
one, two, how many lifetimes
Promises hopelessly flawed

Because time is false
It presents as a path
a golden thread leading
out of the darkness
When truly it is a heap
Of jumbled moments and unmade choices

Opens and closes
Each new universe
So when I choose you
Amidst every other held fork
I create from blood and ripped tears
A world made of you, of me

of us
Of time

Sometime after
I sat in my car
For reasons beyond
Thought and memory

Ground water hides
The cavernous hauntings
That trickle
A hidden wanting

As though we live
Two lives
One in stunned light
The other distant time
Lost beneath

Later reason resounded
I didn't know why
I drank so deeply
Of my tears
As mood dissolved

I said
I felt empty
When truthfully
It was that
I was too full.

It’s like we never met
The way our lives
Dissect away and apart
Lines moving obliquely
Perhaps parallel
But never crashing fitfully

Words are masks
Worn and taken off
By the edges of night
Cheerful offerings
To indifference
While the heart froths

I could find, read
The carefully placed
Collections of your life
An unnatural truth begging
In the barren face
Of our public

Instead I gather
The crumbling fragments
Of memories shaped
Into rolling mounds
Pleasurable agony
And wonder if I ever knew

If the pretty girls knew
That their faces
Would buy more than drinks
Hands twitching low
Curved cunning high

If the pretty girls knew
That even changed rules
Are pressed against
The rigid edges
Of fair compensation

If the pretty girls knew
That the words
"You are are so beautiful"
Were less a gift
Than an expectation

If the pretty girls knew
That beauty plays
Shell games empty of more
But always the possibility
Of less.

If pretty girls knew
That silence
Was the currency
Bought by their perfect
Unheard lips

If they knew
Would they barter
Their face
For a sturdier fate?

You and I
Are not so different
Eyes shaded
In the same vein

Veins percolating
With droplets
Of time passed
As water

Our lips
have kissed in
memories and torrents
of air and light

We touch
because our bodies
dissolve over again
Sloughing into space

We touch
because currents pull
matter attracts
Tides are more
than longing pools

We are both moons
And planets
in dancing orbit
and are bound

Together but not.

I learned
Not to expect
To gather up whimsy
As though it were
The hallmark of
A truthful freedom

It was less freedom
Than a narrow binding
Of hope

We were the kind
Without events, birthdays
Without knowledge
Of certainty

Even without expectations
I came to know some
Expect nothing
Expect silence
Expect pain

Expect to find
That without
There is very little
To fence in friendship
No lines to define
Or give grace.

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