air flows over everything


spring time
everything crawling
& out
as the wind doze blow
my sad in festering joyous self
through wires
musicality draws life onwards endlessly
the way typing this out is a naturally budding thing
Am I a plant? I wish I was a plant.
I think I am a plant.
reaching towards the sun?
everything downpours eventually
sew this is all just water flowing
melting freezing melting pouring pooling
this is air
makes a sound

music reaches directly into the softcore of my being

dissecting every line
speaks into the centre of my bleating heart
why would i ever stop listening?
being seen. being heard. being truly sound.
that’s the rub.
glut of stories untold untelling

life is beautiful and in puddles


wee fondle and finger the absent image
it still burns














oval shapes

ups wells

affixed into

t h in   a i r


that familiar gaping feeling

(the one we were borne with)

dampens every crevasse

for ever (giving berth)


wet seeps into dry

wearing a way at the edges

pressing oneself against itself

weeps intuit


( m u m   i s   cr y in g )


forwards   r e c ed e s