As you turn and trap me in the lidded gaze
of eyes torn to a cold and searing rage...

I stoop my head in wonder
As your cool radiance lances my being...

The man remembers now
back to then...

You have all been born crying
to a high and narrow Virgin road...

Beneath the Hanging Stone
Eyes cast across the waters...

Through a long Moonless Night
those whose mind turns...

Swift (Haiku)
Spearing down the wind...

I heard a bell ring long and loud
Echoes down the ages...

Cracked ceilings stare at blank damp walls
Patterns of plaster...shrivelled...hanging limp...

Now that there is no turning
stand you here with me...

I will perhaps...dream of Plains
where eagle's wing cleaves high thermals...

There were two crescent Moons hanging
caught in the shadow of Venetian eyes...