Poems
As if / the black window / at the solitary pass / from I to this (or you or now) / could let a human mind ...
... (read more)Scene like a Banksy mural: / tiny Flower Thrower lobbing / blood and vernix onto our // chests, squirming pink- / purple skin gliding on Māmān, / alien as amniotic fluid,
... (read more)we live with myriad trees
brush boxes engulf our balconies
October skins bursting pistachio green
beneath in bark litter
Chinese boys carry lattes
crack basketballs down the middle seam
– that’s Ganesh to you – is pictured / with a broken tusk: why? / The tale was added / late on / to the Mahabharata.
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~ dots of colour points on a complex / number plane where the x horizontal axis / represents the ‘real’ part number / and the vertical y gives us unseen ...
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I thought I recognised Sorley Maclean / walking towards me down Niagara Lane. / As he came alongside he said look up, / you can see our friend the sky where the tall buildings / lean in towards each other. I can see some glyphs
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