no taller than a tulip
knee deep austere
loyalty fly\'s it\'s half-mast flag
it\'s pin and cushion ride forgets me not.
insidious by name
no argument by any other means.
black rook, it\'s eyes. it\'s solitary wing.
with luck this stubborn season
forms a centre through a curve.
I am not convinced of curse or otherwise.
will you pardon me my ghost upon a cross?
each shadow dance\'s vertical
speaking German in a gas mask
this winter, pure as sunlight
prosecco chilled in an ice-box,
my face a friend I have not seen for a year.
each turkey plucked and cooking with it\'s god
that sucks and pisses wine
it\'s yellow apricot,
is it vinegar or love that matters most?
not for song
these habits that we crave,
burnt letters to the grave
on edge but still smiles kamikaze man!
my nose has bones in the bowels of a foot.
am as green as I am wet behind the ear.
I wear only white when Sunday brings a hush.
Vienna has it\'s many moods
just below the eye
owls hoot, their yellow graves.
blood orange on a five line stave
we dead are sound asleep;