Quiet everyone, Quit singing this lonesome song Of silence harmonised by crickets Whose idea was it to count sheep on words? Why has our breathing become a rhythm? Un-sing your lonesome song Chant your tune in lines of four Hybrid

these poems may soon forget you. one by one like a buried memory they’d soon fade. like art eaten by the silverfish, the booklice, they’d lose parts. you’d lose your mind in the sacrifice of the finest things, people, world, you may never be able to create, to see, to know again. Əĺļə

here, no one would be quiet. someone said they saw someone speed past where the tree fell. someone else did see someone but could not tell who. alas! she didn’t see what she saw. someone said they saw someone before the tree fell but couldn’t tell. well, I can tell but no one asked me […]

ever heard of elegant trees proud mountains that tower like pillars, seas that control their tide, a language that unites their tribes wars that steal from mothers their husband’s touch, drums that remove lips from the breasts of mothers and daughters, and deep down, behind those clouds where heaven sees and heaven knows all things, […]

too many promises leave us broken. every. year. a youth seeks life, an aged, afterlife. some. times they meet to know how age wears us differently and when she’s done, like a stem pulled by a hurrying storm we’re removed. the explanation won’t make sense. but like every story we end. Əĺļə

if we wash our hands thoroughly an elder invites to a morsel a thing we do once is luck yesterday. today. tomorrow births consistency. consistency births perfection. perfection births mastery. mastery births a crown. a crown can be called a cap. a cap can be of any colour the crown. the cap. the colour. the […]

If consistency was a person. Grateful but more inspired Having seen it all, but still Finding joy in the small things Like a giant in a room Who knows how to walk gently For every poem, every other day, Almost sure as the dawning of a new day Thankful you are here Grateful you are […]

you know your knees are not the weakest part. your star is not the greatest art but you’ve built a gallery in most part to close the funeral door and allow the living live. you enter into yourself and exit a penumbra. too much magic obscures reality. too much you is dew and you, my […]

a happy heart with paid dowries serenading voice and innocent eyes a seeker will find true faith will guide embrace yours run from debts take time to heal I miss your pen a grateful mouth for dutiful acts flipping this coin has been throwing a woven hand fan it lands on the same side. there’s […]