Catherine
shadowlands and hinter thoughts poetry, in chilly moss-touched slumber like long wet grass unmowable on cold June morns air and time they say prods me towards another day time too has its bluster, wind-like rustle... More »
Catherine
tones the wire metal of sleepless things bejewelled and polished paper bits and settled dust holding holding riddles, rhymes remembering standing stocking feet just one step, beyond there is no time there is no space... More »
Catherine
moister air longer views a gap a game mirrors with movement the glint once there to sit, to stare and life a trick a trick of time, versed in vision a yawn long drawn extra... More »
Catherine
the dirt path in summer sips the insect silence reclines, resides reflects, delves deeper and though the soil is tough no blade of grass can cut it sighs softly, to my tiptoed dance and the... More »
Catherine
we owe a debt to the sea that crests how in liquid calm it soothes we rest but there is nothing false in fear or fury forceful is the fight and freedom yes, freedom too... More »
Catherine
ah the night with it’s velvet breath fragrant, empty-scented whisper-combed half hinting wind wishing a lucid quiet tempered sweetness and in the open the open I will stand will admire this night this moment curved... More »
Catherine
I’ve a winter soul winter soul with winter skin, paper pale (not paper thin) and days and days where color hides through icy wind straight, clear and dry it takes its time to shift to... More »
Catherine
what we touch what touches us in temperature of temperament the entails of nature the shape, fed on planes and spheres the shiver of texture the resistance requisite for roughness the slide of sweetness in... More »
Catherine
as I breathe across my coffee on no ordinary winter’s day I decipher games that blizzards play revealed in noise, whipped by contrast uneven tempos, wilder still gusting rattles, dull inhospitable bites and I am... More »
Catherine
we, each one, are an ocean to stand in timid wonder on my own shore filled, full, folding under the horizon the depth, the distance grovel into greedy mullings that feel as a spot of... More »
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poem
June 2009 
