Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Secret Universe

You may think I'm referring
to the colour of his skin. I am
not. I refer to
the colour
of the sky,

that night,

when he pointed the viewfinder
at Taurus, between the two
tips of the horn.

Peering first, he spoke of
what humans can see with the naked eye.

And then there is the thing that no one can.

Monday, January 28, 2008


after sunrise,
the palm rafters of the house

slice light
and shadow into

luminous tigers
across wooden walls.

among shapes of
furniture, they stalk
the day
like tear-away calendars

to land

on the backs of
other shapes
who stir.


In the sunken courtyard,
broken foot pavers
cradle warm soft

The mother high up
on a window ledge

looks down

through snags of creepers
and glories.

Sunlight in various
jigsaw pieces
climb the stairs

as faint meowing
pads through
the abandoned bungalow.

Just now, a darting moth
distracts her.