It simmers
then boils
if left
it might
but likely
it burns
itself into
little nothing
yet wrecks
the pot
holding it
making useless
this thing
Category: Poetry
Tear
It’s as
though a
deeply buried
string has
been plucked
though silent
it sings
upwards and
then down
falling there
onto lap
without so
much as
a whisper
Sandcastle
New is
old again
and old
becomes new
and so
we go
this surf
lapping away
at sandcastles
most leave
I stay
making anew
this thing
of sand
Gregoire
From depths
of past
he bubbled
finding me
a voice
even today
I could
hear familiar
bonjour poet
it’s Gregoire
swim with
me again
Absent
The absence
of frequently
follows the
absence from
and the
absence from
only ever
follows the
absence to
it is
the verb
that hurts
