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I have swum in worlds and seen no people
But hints of fish did keep me there.
I felt their passing left and right,
‘lusive loves in starfish night.
Interruption
Who was Crocker Jarmon?
If you don’t know,
don’t look him up.
And if you do know,
don’t presume you do,
but swing to see him
searching there
that modern desert modern air
for eyes to shine
however small
and drinks to drink
swords and all
Urban birch
Memories of the Cricket Wars
In Texas –
a crunch of many
under the wheels.
Of gasoline and desert powder.
Adam at eighty
Rags of leather
through which
the blood flows
docking ghosts to tread
a million distant dreams
The track died
In a field of cement
but the train,
who loved where it lied,
was heaven-sent
to see as he went
his wheels of steel turned to rubber
Am I who I am?
You are, yes, you are!
A sort of manna
Utrecht Journal 