GOOD FORM

Your vision of me
Is my single covering,
And mine, of thee,
Thy soul's only modesty.

HATCHING

Can we piece together again

Our confinement,

From the laughing fragments

Of its shattering?

STRIP JOINT

Would you strip away

All that is warm with hope,

Mysterious,

Full of promise,

With the scalpel of your curiosity,

Pare me to skeletal bone,

Enchained forever by your sight,

Your eyes,

Your knowing,

A camera, to steal another soul,

A cage, repealing flight,

A pot, in which to miniaturise,

Is that who you would have me be,

A confirmation of mortality?

WHATNOT

A potter,
While glazing
The outside
Of his pot,
Is amazingly
Glazing
The inside
Of what's not.

HIGH TIME

A tide is rising high within,
Of a vast, reflective sea,
That hides with love,
Yet fast begins
To uncover eternity.