Somewhere out there the sea

sighs and turns in its sleep

hidden in a thick white fullness

that is an emptiness

I cannot tear apart

to see behind or peer ahead.


My narrow lens

sharpens everything


grasses bend like fishing rods

baited with water

tiny flowers

burn with blue flames

an empty bird’s egg, eyelid thin

holds a lake of milk


while a snail weaves its eye-stalks

like groping fingers in the dark.




from ‘Salt’ published by IDP 2013