Autumn spits out cars,

Bucketed in leaves.

Newly born to the night,

Parked like seasonal brains,

At the side of the road.

Empty inside.


Give it all to a night walk.

The cold evening breeze is passing through,

Am I a solid object?


Are all the wheels of the universe

Turning into and out of me

Like a hole,


Where I am but an aperture,

Without substance.

Meeting the world.

A Birds Free Will

In a cushioned sky,

Is the relief of a seagull,

It glides above me,

And hovers.

A shadow,

So big and invisible,

Is cast,

Cool in the sun.

I know I am being watched,

It does me good.

I am passive,

Our relationship is a mile high.

Dark Nudge

A flick-book of scratches blows out

The working man’s candle.

The unkempt pen marks out

Crosses instead of kisses.

Our mistakes can never be re-lit.


The split tree continues

To grow in the mind,

A stone lies in its shadow.

The seed always interrupts the knife.

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