Swept by the torrent of others’ ambitions,

Eroded and swirled in the travelling storm,

Cracked and then creviced for all my omissions,

I turn to the shore now, a hollow odd form.

To wait in bare sunlight, aloof and bewildered,

The colours of turmoil soon bleached by the wind,

Be picked up and shine in the hands of my kindred,

Those curious children long lost in the mind.

Posted in Uncategorized



At last, the spell is broken,

The old house bare.

No voice, no warmth to lure me,  

No magic there.

Upstairs a bitsy presence

has cast its web

to reign over the silence,

and prod the ebb.

It’s time to grab my satchel

and find the sun.

Outside, my years of travel

have just begun.

No need to look behind me,

no door to close.

The clearing is all empty.

The river flows.

Posted in Uncategorized



She was not really there

The first time.

She sent instead her name

with legs and hands

a posture and a voice

to carry all the words

that might need to be said

to fill the silence

uncomfortable for most.

She brought her face next time

without the words

and the silence fell

empty and boundless

stretching the spaces

between atoms

until faces disappeared.

The words that match her face

are not in city libraries.

She waits for the code

to crack itself open

until the third encounter.

Posted in Uncategorized

Hey Jude


he sang, sitting on the pavement
outside my window
the last two strings of his banjo
slicing the air of the morning
displacing the structure of silence
with a betrayal of sound.

I know this song, I thought,
mixing memories of past harmony
with stories of my own defeats
and inner shrieks of protest.

Shouting to stop
would add to injury.
Closing the window
would be giving up on air.
Lending my guitar
risks serious damage.
Music theory
is not emergency aid.
I sit on the floor
with the window open
my breakfast cereal getting soggy.

Maybe Jude lives on my street.

Posted in Uncategorized



I met many other me
yesterday at the market
me who was selling bread
me who believed in clouds
one afraid of getting lost
one charmed by the toys stall
buyers and sellers
tearful and blessed
all waiting for something
and meanwhile
getting on.

Posted in Uncategorized

Just acting


To make everyone happy
He was asked
To play the other part
That nobody wanted
But all needed there
For contrast.

He could choose
the ugly friend,
the witless brother,
Or Judas.

It would be so generous of him
They said, and waited
For the lure of praise
To catch the novice.

He wiggled for a while
to find some hidden beauty,
unassuming wisdom,
or reason in the treason.

Proving everyone wrong
turned out to be
the ultimate archvillain role,
with no reward
except the next Sisif part,
which he refused politely.

Posted in Uncategorized

Peace for sale


what shall I buy?
walking through colourful stalls
getting free samples of peace.

the smell of bread with olives,
season’s fruit to taste,
the latest song humming,
a smile in the charity shop

checking the small print
on product labels
for traces of war.

Posted in Uncategorized



You grew smaller today

I saw you shrinking

in the distance between us

thoughts fluttering around you

pieces of you flying away

crumbs eaten by quick sparrows

lost in tiny beaks of mundane wants

turning into foreign atoms



Only the empty space

of your earlier frame

was still visible in my mind.


Nobody else could see it

nor understand

how this loneliness felt like.

Posted in Uncategorized

The good, the bad and the uncertain


From my side it seems right

asking this question,

giving this answer,

saying no,

or needing something else.

The order of the scenes

makes sense exactly this way

in my movie.


In the other script

the frown might mean refusal

instead of focus,

the smile says contempt

and not approval.

No time to check

when movies play in parallel

with no rewind.


The silence in these frames

remains without a label.

Until I know for sure

I put query marks on most frowns

and move on to the next line.

Posted in Uncategorized

Once upon a summer time


Today we walked together

the perfect walk

by the water.


The afternoon warmth

electric flickers of lights

along steady steps

in sync on the path.


Shared glories and fears

rushing to win the day

over thousands more unsaids

from earlier times.

Just a short interlude

in parallel plays

Now fading with the sun.


You do not hear now

The cricket show.

You’ll miss tomorrow

The brush sliding on paper

And smell of ink.


I will skip your dance

And morning giggles

The long drive south

And taste of fresh pie

In the busy city


If we time it right

We will catch all back.

Next time every step

will gather some stories

of meanwhile.

Posted in Uncategorized