The Two-Way Door

“Why must you always let the shiver-dark in?”

She asks, this breathless,

Green-eyed glimmer princess.

“You don’t have to open

The two way door every time the

Night-wolf within you stirs.

Look away from the sinister glass;

Close your ears to the

Blacksnake whispers,

Tarry no longer in the malicious 

Shadows of Envy Forest.”

She’ s right, she’s right

I accept the fact, but

Raven-feather thunder is

Marching closer, testing my feeble resolve.

And, though my romance fairy is far away

I’m hoping she feels me resisting;

Will dance words with me again

When storm and doubt have passed.





Sublime sunset pageantry,

Blood in the clouds,

Hymns and homecoming parades

Of swallow squadrons:

Wingover stories,

Over-waters glories.

There’s thunder in the near-distance –

But then, there always was –



The incredible intelligences,

The wasted, glorious  braveries,

The ever-lamentable, always-terrible

Costs of wars.





Jonah ?

Are you truly suggesting

That my god was

Swallowed by a monster

Sent by god, as punishment

(That’s my god – again),

That became enlightenment

That my god had

Already planned –

Before he set sail ?


That the thunder

Above the waves is

As loud, as dangerous

As that below them ?


I need some serious time

To think on this.




It’s Not You.

You’re desperate: for freedom,

Space, something different?

Don’t whisper your secrets

Your desires to the thunder;

Thunder don’t listen.

It’s not you,

It’s not what you wish for –

It’s the thunder:

Thunder don’t do the

Listening thing.


Don’t look for help,

Don’t seek advice, alliance, empathy

In hope, in desperation;

Don’t pray to the lightning –

It’s not you,

In your time of need –

It’s the lightning:

Lightning don’t do reflection.

Lighting never does anything –





Down the long, wide

Sky-horse plough rides,

From one past to another,

Demon-slow and angel-fast,

Droughtbreaker comes:


On electric-jagged legs

Singing thunder,

Bruising heaven.


Big traffic is

On the hoard roads;

I hear the cries of

Passing geese,

But belles will laugh,

Will curtsey and tumble

Before dawn.

And, rest assured,

Full moon will settle

The millpond surface again.