The cats sit on the wall
cold air sits in my lungs...

Slandered on the juvenile philosophy of candle lit...
We stagger our moments...

A million suns explode on the waters,
the human gods look up...

In bed-
not writing for anyone, just writing...

New. New music. New visual experiential choirs...
My ears enjoy the sounds of Newly strung...

The night came with so many terrifying epiphanies
that by morning i was left brain dead...

Life is given a different light
when you're out on a date...

Back from Stratford.
a letter to...

Pregnant puddles swell into labouring pools.
Give birth to muggy streams...

Saintly heavenly sphere
rises with ominous blue eruption...

To the dead butterfly that lays its patterns
Towards the ceiling outside my bedroom...

From the bottom looking up,
the ripples of souls...