Friday, 16 June 2017


someone left these books in a sort of roadside library.
the message on the door says " you are welcome to take any of these books or leave yours here."

3 Kookaburra sitting on a tree....

self portrait as a picture hanger

my face is a picture hanger with no picture.
My body a shirt with 4 buttons.

My legs are made of papery table cloth from a sidewalk cafe .

I teeter like a yo yo,
Shoeless, with a little secret around my ankles.

Flapping 2 saws as arms,
that cut no one but me.


The road I take -
with the steps
I make -
To make my steps
Into a Road.

The things I say -
With the words 
I speak -
I say them in shards
Without any meaning.

A terrapin, 
an Indian man,
orchids and goldfish
on the postage stamps -
They've walked the road 
I've made -
In 50 and 60 cents.

They carried the words 
I tried to say
But ended up 
on this sad assemblage.

Glitter and Butterflies

Dazzling beauty that comes off -
Comes off when you touch it -
Like dust on a mantelpiece -
Stick to your fingers like glitter.

When I was a child, I was afraid of touching butterflies.
So I tried to trap one with a net -
To make her beauty my special pet.

Then my brother told me that butterflies only lived for a day -
So I opened my net and set her free -
And watched in wonder as her intricate pattern 
dazzled in the sunlight as she flitted away.

Back in my room, 
I picked at the glitter that stuck to my fingertips.
They came off -
only to stick to my other fingertips.

That night,
I went to bed with my fingers glittery -
Glittery like stars in the night sky -
I reached out my hand to catch one -
with the glitter still on my fingertips.

another day