All Roads …

All paths lead to the Black Stage;

The one that hangs beneath the

Impossibly huge,

Lightning cracked

Longhorn bull skull.

But as the peaceful sun

Settles down to rest

In the hills beyond

The gathered tribes

I take a breath, a stance:

Feet below my shoulders.

From that point

Everybody knows;

This is my stage,

My tune, my song.

The notes as diamond-bit

Sharp as always.

“There once was a woman …”

Once ?

We look at each other

And the smiles are

Wider than ever …

Because this time around

We all understand

That the joke  –

If joke it be –

Is on those of us:

The light and the dark,

Children of smoke and water

Who are here in this moment.


Suspicion and humour sit

Their morning throne;

This is their time: caprice,

Distraction, prankster-rule.

Charming my way

Into the danger vale

Of simple black and white

I chance upon a

Thrown-down glove.

I know the trick, of old,

But even so I am

Inclined to accept …

“Should-I … Shouldn’t I?”

Is never really a question.

I’m drawn in, gulled.

First day,

First poem ?