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The Verse of Being.
There were four children who wove the wicker of fire that colors every blade of grass, every eye that is. One covered the sky, in her disappearance she sparked secrets that swirled in her silent cauldron And the other, took…
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Forgotten remembrance
I feel you wave in the shadows of dancing leaves, in the shiver of a wild sugarcane, the quiet scuffle under the bushes and the ripple of a still pond I see your white tail slip out the corner of my…
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Autumn rain
The autumn rain falls sleepy on crinkled orange, strewn along the path, winding with no certain destination into the far horizon of the setting sun where fire meets fire and the world burns its wildest before the waning sun ushers cold…
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The word human
I, what is– ‘I’? I call myself the word ‘human’ But, what is human? Not the word but the thing itself? Am I the thing itself? Or that which says this is ‘I’? But, what says ‘I’? What is I?…
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Between man and woman
Give she the mantle of the heart before she can wonder Give she all the fire and rain before she can build her ship Give she the bare skin and blood of birth before she can uncover her jewel Give he…
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Poems to your letterbox
MindWraith 