hang on, tend the snatch of dream before it leaves. seeds travel beyond our labour

roomed, we sit within walls willed, a roof raised, yet then rocked by the hand of gods and tyrants

Ajax! we grasp the can. maybe it was Tennents, i no longer recall, just renting out the day, hoping it will shake out better in the end.

you walked out your head talking lists of doing and mending, words of what if and maybe, leaving everything waiting

what you carry up a hill is not what you carry down

its a light touch we need, lay out your scraps of green.

clearing the drawers, the shelves collapsing years at the edge of the local tip, a shallow grave. at other thresholds who dreams of what...

a moth to a flame, we return pulled beyond ourselves to the drawing board

i carry willingly, take courage to cross, you cannot span a gap without knowing the fall.

eye level with the rocks and the dust you could have been my prince steady and stoic in your pursuit of the other side

not all the soho nail bars could out revel the sycamores coming out party

my 8yr old self would stand unabashed ready to launch. i welcome every visit still, salve to the bruises of the road.

easy to be tender to your fragile wrap, inhabit your sweet promise harder to hold the eyes of our hungry ghosts and answer

what is it you want? something you've not yet found in those long nights of whispering and many-tongued dreams.

who will come? who will help?

yew seeds set forth take their time to move from dormancy to growth lessons for my slim attention

you say it might be tonight that you dream again of flying journeys that trace beyond yourself

anticipation bone deep for the silver arrow that draws the summer

how will we read the smoke on the horizon?

yellow north pull seeding south fault-lines east to west