Summer before the air closes
down with heat
locked in a plastic suitcase
...
A white dress
full of winter cherries,
hair curled with frost.
...
autumn rain is akin to black tea,
the burnt yellow of old growth watered;
a train shakes the fields, an old carpet snapping
...
I walk between a forest and a river,
one male, one female,
they are both grey.
...
The trinity of trees
Ice and weak light
Bitter as the
...
Mantis girl, all legs and arms,
a mess of open wounds. Too many
mouths open, too many blank eyes.
Femina juvenilia. A pink heap in
...
As yet you know little of love
Your breath as soft as a night tide
Your eyes half closed like dark olives
Your face at rest as a warm breeze.
...
Ox-eyed daises, red clover, harebell, irish lady`s tresses
Corncake; underwash for small roots
small grains of seed
a carpet of marsh orchids
...
The cold changes
the wieight of my steps.
Each door opens with glass.
...
The train arrives late.
It is full of animals.
A late moonday. Not much Sun.
...