A way to fall


My younger vessel was

Strong in sensation and

Overbearing in thought:

My fresher self wanted

And willed, and strove, and felt

Deeply the wrongs and rights

Of the world he received.


By the sea, alone

The pebbles in sun on shore-side shine, and tell

Their truth as crushed old mountains meeting deeps

That smashed them slowly, aeons ago, without

Any pity or knowledge. Forever they whisper;

Whisper to victims mute, and softly speak

Of mysteries, endless shifting places, so far

From warmth and light that darkness turns grey-green.

My Moby

I’m a poor man, born to riches unearned

And fate unasked; to years unsubtle, burnt

With the burden of dreams imposed by

Thousands that dream asame because we live

Asame: under a sky that tightens daily.