fox in forest
Tears bleed your eyes. It’s a red moon, love,
twisted out of shape. Caught in the dying of a strangled knot’s
cloudy dream of freedom; choice lost. Cemented.

A grave sheds me every day, heavy with adversity, moments
born in wish-tanks full of touch out of touch with reality,
a million dreams away from peace. Starry.

Tears bleed my eyes for both of us. It’s a blood moon,
Love, we’re gasping under concrete. Dreams that don’t make sense
haunt obsessions, make ghosts of habit. Trail drag

to a dead end. Listen for wild birdsong, Love. Forget all this.

disconnected (draft)


my type, feather

light in quiet

breath, drifts

on a whim of fancy.


              but a song

half formed on a fingertip

dream in a mad breeze


sent, like a road sighing


             beautiful and real.

lying low, daylight hangs

between us

there is nothing but nice

chit-chat and the memos

that remember everything

                              but this.


SoundArt - deviantart


every door slam raised voice barrelled in a fist,

every time you dragged me to the ground,

kissed me on the up-curve of a crippled howling no.


how long ‘til the echoes of your will crushing mine

say no more. say no more of bone or break

or song strangled in brief light. no. don’t touch me.


a_new_day Francois Frassiner

you said you’d only let me down
which you did

soon enough i knew better
than to take you back for more


i miss hearing you play guitar
though you can’t sing

or echo

the waste of my embrace;
you pretending to be the good guy


moon independence

I can’t see the moon. Beyond dark tree and thought branching
out into the universe, each busy with itself – She
has locked me out, left me to fend as best I can beneath her
awesome vacant space, lit only by the garden fairylights.

Too busy for my needs, she has a chaos of new stars to teach
about the destiny of planets, constellations, souls and all
the rest that can’t be named outright in word or song,
because everyone, absolutely everyone, is running scared

that everything might well turn out to be nothing but a technicality;
an aberration of the tick-tock let’s invent whatever
seems to be a possibility and worry later if it all goes wrong.
Stars too should know how to fend for themselves, so I accept
the obvious – tonight I’m on my own with the bloody fairylights.

in difference


Your touch doesn’t drive me reckless-crazy,
I don’t hear stars pound in your veins
but sometimes you’re a perfect shallow
anchoring my complex depth.
Calm when I am all wild moon and moor
screaming for the lost who spin and cry
like wind-chimes clashing in mad chaos,
you are measured, careful with my breath.