Tuesday, 1 April 2014

1 New Poem

Close Calls

Collision-like in the busman's brow, hands scatter
in half-bring avoidance, too close for comfort,

Dense in their bravery, words spiral, cluster of cave
paintings, shades in the red clay halo hues of times

You move between inarticulate florescent stripes,
with the drift of a a Vancouver sunshower, clumsily,

Heavy boot-binds the laces and whipping cords to
sounds of silence in half-and-half; it is a close call, again,

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