Machine Brain

A forty minute bumpy ride, with engine rumbles disrupting the air that I hear but don’t listen to and even the voices that fill my diminishing personal space are just white noise in my quiet. Somehow I’d forgotten how to lose myself in thought. I’d forgotten what escape was. I’d forgotten that this time was…

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Writing poems with song lyrics

Trees watch those who feel midnight on their wings silhouetted against dust and perilous dreams- walking through drearily sweeping loneliness. Moonbeams purple in windows and eyes, sweet lilac wonder sings above the sky. Hands bottle every dusty pleasure, forgotten timeless souls, imagination running wild, butterflies settle caught in their mind.

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not every silence is silent – a poem

an utterance is the heart’s way of shouting
but it does not rupture the enigma of a liminal space,
I am not waiting on the brink of a question, I am only
listening to a smooth swell of musical crescendo

As murmurs become a gentle nudge to fall out of almost-asleep
and into a dream that fills the night silence, not
with noise, but an explosion of colours
and stories we would never think to tell,
infused with (only-imagined) sounds.

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