In the Beginning

I sleep two time zones,

wake in the small day between.

Darkness on the face.

No rest on the seventh.

The dustbin lid cracks down

on kitchen dreams.  Ashtray speaks

with gently-hammered elbows

and knees.

Only a blue-lit kettle

shines through the deep. 

Everything is transformed,

microwaveable.

I thank the god of oven mitts;

my fingers free to make

evening and morning,

and it is good.

At last we sleep

on the crumb-strewn floor. 

Evolved.  Immortal.
Creation under my nails.

tk/January 2015


Brilliantly delivered by R.A.D. Stainforth...

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Northern Quarter

Random faces on the street―

one could be yours. 

I shut my eyes, count to a thousand.

Voices within earshot take me to sleep. 

The door is unlocked.

Windows near the fire escape open

just enough―not from forgetfulness,

but for a drawbridge.

A welcome note waits in the hall,

a second in the kitchen―

short sentences made to measure,

emphasis on the penultimate. 

The words work overtime,

call your name above the city―

come a great distance

to find you.

tk/ February 2014


Gorgeous read by R.A.D. Stainforth... 

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The Absence

I grip the banister,

touch each sleepless stair―

the door's salutation

sounds sadder in the dark.

Night swallows me,

one naked shoulder at a time.

I hear your voice in the crickets―

fireflies remind me of the distance,

how each nocturnal window twinkles

from counties to countries.

How stars scatter

differently across your sky.

tk/July 2013 

Thanks to R.A.D. Stainforth for this masterful reading.  

Man and The Moon, 1990 by Andrew Wyeth 

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