mr. moon

at the nape of twilight

the moon is glazing

itself in the distance.

in preparation for his

appearance, he gleans

himself several times

over; in anticipation

of us whom he graces.

with his wondrous presence,

bearing a white light;

corners in soft

emergence; dispersing

freckled reflections

amidst this night scape.


olive green

light spills

through the

dent between

foils of rustled olive.

reoccurring patterns; a

series of solidified bubbles

united at their pointed

corners, an

asymmetrical balance –

their rightful way

towards equality.


all is temporal.

the soul of longing

has engraved it’s desire

into visiting pebbles

sitting by the seaside; they are

bathing under twilight – too,

a shifting hue of

washed-out reflections.

they are awaiting, the

approaching tides; expectant

and eager to dissolve

all that has been worn and

carried; into the

forgiving under tide.



as I peer into

a distance,

not yet microscopic or

drifting at a speed

too swift; the

spaces between

loosely woven bundles,

are gathering.

as they churn and

roll into each other, their

gaps at once, faint

lines; seamless.

moon tales

it was a little before 11.38 pm, on a saturday night i should have been tucked beneath my covers in preparation for an early rising. i stood before the wooden arched window frame, lining the concrete walls around our kitchen sink. gently tapping my supplements from the bottle and into my palm, i moved across tiles in search for a glass of water.

behind the peeling frames, was a faint glimmer of something bright. this caught my eye upon looking up and around whilst gulping down swallows of fluid. mistaking it at first, for a street lamp, awkwardly and placed at random; it took me a little longer than it should have, to discover that this was indeed our moon.

certainly, a remarkable beauty. it’s glow radiating in soft circles across our night sky. i felt warm and encouraged, at the sight and experience of having seen a tiny bright, shimmer amidst such dark, indigo planes. it was nothing like a sparkle, nor did the sky appear to be set on fire; it was a simple, ever so common sighting. there was nothing extravagant, nor peculiar about it.

perhaps it’s unexpected appearance had propelled the essence of what had occurred before me. the value of a light no matter how microscopic, amidst vast darkness; dense and heavy was something to be thankful for. the purpose of this light, was simply to offer light unto the earth; first beginning with it’s home up in our night sky.

the moon continued to sit in stillness, despite knowing of it’s setting in a mere few hours. it was there to just be, for these few moments, and for this present one – now.



desert ground

like the summer snake

slithering across

bare dessert grounds,

I, shed scales;

thin slivers of skin

peppered throughout

trails of powdery grains.

etched prints, from men

who once thread

this path;




wild call

the call of wilderness; an urge to be set free. dissatisfied with the mere shuffling of houses, not a place to be called home; but one that provokes within me the comfort of settlement. allowing things to simply be, as they are. to fall where they are strewn; decided upon a gentle toss¬†up, into rippling air. before, they make a wild dash into permanence, soften your hands into a blooming lotus. wide, open and steady. ready for an awakening. no matter the pain you will deal for it’s arrival. your willingness and grit is a dear trait, definitive not of the outcome but essential, in moulding your experience of the suffering to come.