through the veins

It runs through the veins

the Spirit of God

and shows at the edges

like a lightning rod.

It cannot be hidden

nor hide in disguise:

it shows nothing to fools

but life to the wise.

New Year 2015

New Year begins its shining
unsullied by footfall
quiet as night
and the waking of birds
brings a new song
to be sung.

A stampede for the shore

The buffalo herd wave,

spray, like prairie dust

below its feet,

stampedes for the shore.

There will be

casualties.

In its wake

toppled children

add to the brine

with their salty tears.

To shake off this dust,

To shake off this dust,
from whence I came,
Eden's spawn

 so long ago
is beyond my measure.

 

This contaminated creation dust,
self sullied selfish grime,
clings in daily torment
and draws me

ever closer
to the dust

whose siren call
creates time.

 

mock waterfall haiku

in raggedy web

spilling like a waterfall

debris in descent

Moving on

Moving on,

the stuttered steps

lost beneath your feet,

you move higher,

though slower,

in the altitude of days.

It was never meant to be permanent

There’s a dancing light colouring the sky,

its crayon lining cosmetics

an eye liner eye-grabber

beyond the prisming rain.

It fades as the snappers dilute it

with their camera-phones -

the paraphernalia of instants

and facebook boasting.

It was never meant

to be permanent,

but now lies captured

and repeated at whims

on screens.

The beauty stays in that moment -

the conversation of eye and sky

the penetration of light

and the intimacy

of seeing.