night organ

he listens to the breathing of the night
he plays a song for the cathedrals of the sleeplessness
the minds of the awake, travelling towards him
in the voyages of their tears

Monday

the particles of people
fall like dust
two faces turn to pictures
floating in the wind
people become puppets
animated, distant
big eyed, carrying no emotion in their glass stained smiles.

Tapestry

From a line drawn in the sand, swept away by the desolate wind
a patch of light through the summer oak leaves
the sweet aftertaste of a pastry eaten by the Athens harbour
waiting for the ferry, just before sunrise
 to an echo of a baboon calling from the ice breathing cliff
mid winter, serene silence follows
a lost cry ringing from that deserted island
recurrent
these are my patchwork memories.

Words

These words crowd in the corner
at the end of summer
wonder struck
unable to separate sentences