I guess
it’s not my place
to thank you for your words,
short bursts
of clarity and

for Mum

You are not in the wet earth
or the hospital room
or at home or on the phone with

What is it but the telescope of truth?
Which strips the distance of its fantasies,
And brings life

“I listen to my words but they fall far below,
I let my music take me where my heart wants to

Perhaps I am not the model candle,
Smooth flame burning brightly and dependably
at the window,

He sat that night in the company
of himself, crying was pointless,
rage was a waste. He had