fin-de-siecle adverts, and a scrappy little poem, unedited.

Having chucked the cable hook-up for a fresh start, I should blog more frequently soon.  My last couple of poems are pretty personal/sensitive pieces…stuff I can’t publish until I’m sure it won’t affect anyone’s feelings too much.  In the meantime, I’ve written this unstable piece:
Yellow Jasmine
willows webbed into a wicker caste of time,
creaking, with fingers, [...]

as yet, Untitled.

bird, bottle-tops, and some wire.

lid to a metal tin.

roadtrip photos! (more on flickr)

very first attempt at a new, invented form…

Baby’s Breath
growing, white as crumpled paper,
the leaking droplets of a breast
cresting, falling into the mouth of a sleeping child,
still as the breathy lace along a hillside.
Hemlock
windless, still,
the lacy breaths from a child’s mouth
leak droplets onto a breast,
grown white as crumpled paper along the hillside.

“Thetis”