through

some shifts are so subtle we barely notice them. Some so sudden we forget they occured. I navigate slipstreams till my scales are shined clean.curling to the sea like a lover submerged in a timeless embrace.

Fertility Roulette

He would claim
that he was shooting
blanks

But she knew
he got her
heart

second to last

a confession is not an excuse. The line is paper thin. The confusion is palpable. All my definitions lie dormant. I am frozen between fight and flight. Taking time with my reply. I feel by osmosis. Stop short at definitive answers. These grey scale days, this endless precipitation. So uncharacteristic of the seasons. I forget where i am. Uncertain and indifferent i choose the middle path.

ambivialence

we shift backwards in time. retrospect and collect small peices of history to make up the now.

i sift small slithers of sand. peel through layers and still cannot make the connections between ought and often. a veil is thin enough to breathe through yet opaque enough to disguise.

i play leapfrog with tadpoles just to prove that i have legs.

i am not sure of this horizon. i am unfamiliar with this road. lines drawn and broken and overtaken.

something else is being revealed.

putting out starboard headlights

concentric aurguments overlap with history. Carousels and dancing horses. We leap through the hoops and burn like fire and singe the corners. We stake our claim on land and people. We turn history into artefacts by dinner table conversation.

return

my heart goes lunar

i learn to question my own rules. review my own policies. proof read my own procedures.

my mind grows tangled. gets snared on has beens and will bes. maybes and then agains.

was there ever a season to sit and stare at the wind till it changed direction? i hold all i am in a small cup and imbibe.

there is a steady place from which all things flow. a greater wisdom that supercedes all facts. these oscillations all swing from the same centre of gravity.

profound and humble
in it's simple weight.

slips

from shaking limbs to slippery fingers; these worlds we walk through in our minds.

untangling silver slithers from grey scales sunken. i know that things are still swirling, still folding back to reveal some truth. i am still in this world of indifference and indecision. shifting endlessly from form to form. uncertain of what is in between the shores of here and now.

then it explodes. a cataclysm of colours and the small now seems insignificant. i am returning home; to that place of shifting foundations. where everything is a constant flux of what it has been.

i believe neither and both sides of the story.