Excerpts from the archives: selected poems from 1992-1995



OUT OF THE SMALL THINGS



I like you
But the world does continue

And we cannot remain
Upon temporary desires

Or dreams born from
The restless mind.

We cannot make
A world

Out of the small things
That absorb us

Only for the moment
And then are gone

Or we would never
See the world

Through the false thickness
Of the air.




THE BUTTERFLY'S TALE



And the butterfly
started to die ;

he didn't know that
what he wanted was
also killing him.

And the butterfly
started to die
as he burnt himself
against the light.



SHELL


Like little sea creatures
In a shell we lay

pressed against
the pressured air ;

too silent to be moved,
showing ourselves

as the layered rock
shows earth's growth
from youth.

Tiny thumb prints of some desire
we wish to encapture

and keep between the flesh,

to seep from our pores
on every embrace

to smell the skin
on every kiss

like honest things.





MY NAME ( UNDER FRAGILE HANDS )



My name

like scattered glass splinters
amidst the snow

waits to be found
and cupped together

under fragile hands.

My name

with each syllable
transparent
and cracked with
uneven edges

waits to be called

and held together
under
fragile hands.







A STRANGER WITHIN


A man who lives on the outside of his skin
forever
is he who dies being a stranger within.