vignettes of moments
words scratched in electrons
a three line poem

collected poems
bind them together and then
cast them to the wind

the poem drawer
on display for all to see
the light and shadows
it contains
a legacy of drowning and glimpses
of redemption

strangers passing in the street
don't make eye contact
gone
dissolve in memory

in the name of my father
the son I never had
and a bottle of vodka

obliteration

I wrote a poem
for her, for him, for me

one day they'll put me in a box,
a draw for a few friends,
and the electronic poem drawer?
I honestly don't know.
I hope
I fear

eternity
perpetuity

just write for the drawer
for transience
for catharsis
for absolution
for now

I saw a spider
outside my window
on a windy day
spinning

how to construct the words,
a shaky Jenga tower,
I remember your kindness to me,
I remember you as brave,
I remember your funeral

too young but gone,
children fatherless
and widow ...

an empty ellipsis -
there are no words of real comfort,
only faded photographs

years have passed
it should have been your birthday
they cremated you

I hardly knew you

it falls apart

a tarot card
an image
a broken poem for Nish

This morning I meditated
and imagined a garden of thought.
Sometimes busy with the sounds of growing leaves
and groaning trees, that react to the weather.
Cats visit and the grass shimmers with the breeze.
There are weeds of course, Nature's shock troops.
Some days I ignore the weeds,
the Holocaust thoughts
and psychosis memories
and they fade like dandelion seeds
on the breeze.
Some days I pull them from the ground
by returning
to the soil,
my breath,
grounded in the body,
grounded in the earth.
I let go of the gravity of my thoughts
and focus,
again and again,
on what I can hear, see, and feel.
The sensations of my body,
my breath or my big toe,
I am alive.
I wander in a garden,
I sit with my back against a tree.
There is colour.
There is life.
I am here,
inside my skull,
the meditation bell sounds
with its resonating reminder,
to come back
to my room,
to my home.