Red, red, red

i met a man who
   could not see
      any colour.

   though i love
      to see colour,
i didn't pity;

   the man with
      no colour
was good as any.

he lived his way,
      making this 
   world his own.

he wasn't disabled
      in any way. 

      nobody knows 
what other senses
he may have had.

      he wasn't talking
about such things.

      perhaps there is
no way to speak of
   unshared visions.

we all walk alone.

BW Tree

BW Tree

   looking lonely
   on a hillside,
black on white
      is all we see

under blackened 
      branches i see
   no distant stars

   even there we
      crave light,
      we are 
night-blind

even in daylight
      we do not
   see so well

      from here,
it looks like
   scenery of 
   some kind

these days, it
      seems so 
hard to find

   good scenery,
a distant hillside
and a black tree...

Black and White Barn

Black and White Barn

      all the colours
      that we need
to tell a story...

all the colours
      that we see 
make white.

   no colours 
      at all
make black.

      darkness is
   like silence
to our eyes.


   a step this way,
the point of view 
   will change.

this becomes that.
      and unreal
   becomes real.

   looking around 
corners: a question 
      of seeing.


any artist should 
   know: seeing is 
      not believing.

but believing
   is a big part
      of creating.

creating may require 
all the beautiful 
   colours that 
      there are.

Tile Roof

      down on the
tile roof, a little 
   damp remains...

tropical rain
   sometimes 
      so warm,

sometimes
      it plugs
   the drains.

wet tile roofs,
that might not,
      blow away...


      as stories go,
some things you 
   cannot say.

      maybe her  
   last trip ever,
you never know.

i hold my mouth 
and think again.
      words choke.

   they will not
      come. stuck
in my throat.

      (life without
some pictures)
   we are taught.

   some words
must not be said
      you know.

some thoughts
      must not 
   be thought.


      down on the
tile roof, a little
   damp remains...

tropical rain
   sometimes
   so warm,

sometimes
      it plugs
   the drains.

Take Me Outside

take me outside
where i can hear
   the little birds
   singing like
they're breaking
      my heart.

take me outside
where i can see
      still, dark
tree shadows
underneath a
   noonday sun.

take me outside
where i can hear
water splashing,
   rushing over
   rocks in such
      a lively creek.

take me outside
   where i can see
a golden sunset
      above a remote
and sandy beach

take me outside