Zenith 

Hope came in the form of a

shadow
dark and terrible

threatening everything
at the bar

at the end of the street
I was suicidal with joy

and at the lonely table
top

at midnight
sipping sweet despair

spinning
secrets of the heart

in another tongue
for the dog to howl at pretty

soon after it disappeared
like I said

it would
left me here alone

cross-legged on the floor
with the fierce

sun at its zenith
casting zero.

breath 

blank like the stars are blank
and the leaf
and all the leaves
and the carpet
and the ceiling
nothing brings relief
when not even love has meaning

only breath
only breathing

morning coffee

things fall apart
cannot be repaired

for that reason
we sometimes despair

a path leads up the field
towards the ridge

then peters out

they should put an archive
of broken things up there

where uncertainty
meets intangible air

at first light

I could photograph them
put them in a book

a resource for all the world
it would only take a moment

to flick through
we are disposable

even the things
I could not photograph

belong up there
past care

thick
with morning coffee

stand back from the edge 

desolation
despair
these are common coins
everywhere
hang a curtain across the day
build an imaginary marina
and go sailing
sun dappling the water
white apartments
reflecting in the bay
take a deep breath
stand back from the edge

sacred heart

the wasp knows no compassion
no remorse

it will sting and sting again
until it dies

we have built cathedrals
to the stars

we only need a cowshed
in our hearts
to find some peace

pray for peace

so beautiful
the view from Sacré-Cœur
it made me weep

high visibility jacket

just north of lonesome
by several degrees
more lost than someone
has a right to be
in boots so tight
they shredded my feet
I consulted the void
that you left me
and demanded an angel
at the very least
in a shining jacket
high visibility
to descend at midnight
oh glory be
and pull those damn boots
clear off of me