To be a cloud-watcher

Sometimes I think I want to be like a sage,

a cloud-watcher,

a dog sitting by the bay—

a thing content to not partake;

Like a lazy fisherman untroubled by the day

a lizard bathing in the world’s ways

simple enough,

astute enough, 

to never watch,

but, only see;

to just be 

but, never really live.


Separation: day two


the layers are peeling off

and I look more like

my preferably-avoided side

in photographs.


You probably don’t know

how easy it is for me to resort

to a convenient moral code

based on the fact that nothing matters at all

in the end.


Especially when,

there isn’t someone worthwhile to notice

how I can be spotlessly part of all this

weight to deliver better than our body dust-

like you.  


So, can you send me a picture

from the faraway?

So I can reaffirm reasons and better days.

It’s important. I’m fading.

I hope you remain.


Image - Laurent Van Assche

Image – Laurent Van Assche




Separation: day one

I made a plan.

A foolproof regime to surround myself with things

as delightful as ripe, red tomatoes bursting under laughing skin.

A perfectly plausible, markedly intelligent

logical thing.


I lined them one after another,

in a careful, well-thought-out sequence;

Books, burning questions, Earl Gray and full cream concoctions,

sad stories for bed, classic rock for Wednesday next-

no cracks, no slips, fucking perfection.


It’s two a.m.,

our bed is still soaking wet from before you left

and on it my plan has turned to glorious wilderness

of the way your arms weighed on my breasts.

Eight more days to forget.



Image – Michael Drummond


One time

Sad, long people

gathered around a table

waiting with drinks

in hand,

for air to grow convivial

for times to come gold-plated,

and the music to be not

so bland.

But the secret we all know

while we wait for

something more,

is that there is really

only one time-

when things taste beautifully


and hearts wildly race

for the sentience of icy fresh

diffusing greedy in our


For this one time

to return

we all sit tight and wait-

anytime now…

let’s buy another round.    


Image - William Albert Allard, Girl smoking at Au Gamin

Image – William Albert Allard, Girl smoking at Au Gamin


Naked wait

It’s too close now

with your horizon burning a hot haze of mirages- just outside my eyes.

It’s too hard now

like Colombo sun on the back of my neck in March

– mathematically perpendicular, straight above a rule’s measure-

like you shining across three-thousand two-hundred eighty-three miles.

The air around is gathering, preparing to vibrate

to ‘Darling, it’s so good to see you again’,

everything – the sea, the sun, the air

ready, in place, waiting as honest as glass…

I shouldn’t jinx it

by moving my heart.  

Image - Alvin Laurent, ALphotoworks

Image – Alvin Laurent, ALphotoworks




I like to think of you slowly.

You taunt me at the tip of my nose,

where I can’t quite lick,

but can smell.

Let me.

Let me think of you slowly,

early on my bed.


Image source unknown

Image source unknown