Love letter # 862 When you moved away, you took the world with you. A gutted replica remained. The outline of something, nearly nothing. I traversed the hollow streets – the excavated avenues – and how they did echo. The empty rooms we left behind. A resonant quiet in place of song. That was years…

Love letter # 517 For what have I yielded, for what airs have I thrown up shutters to inrush? What hath impelled me to cede once guarded ground? Tis not for God or other compulsion. Tis not for reckless chance. I do not seek release from solitude, nor the flattery of the becoming eye. Yet,…

Love letter # 474 The once tangible force of your presence has become a kind of archaeology. Fossilised remains. Dead pictures, pressed flat by time. The world we once fashioned with our tender belief compressed to a hush of breath. A clock ticks. It counts the leftover jewels in our crown. We, who made as…

Le retour du printemps

… Then they were in their spring, their bright emergent hope. Girls. Boys. Budding into sex and fumbling, tender belief. On the crest of hormones and heartache. Theirs was the eternity of boundless tomorrow. The widescreen romance of aching desire and the blizzard lust of newly invented love. Here the peaks of exception; vaulting the…

Love letter # 586 Did not know I wanted you. Then I saw you near. Did not think I loved you. Then you disappeared. Was not grateful for your gifts. Then the price was paid. Could not sleep for missing you. Then I crashed awake. Felt I could not walk alone. Now I travel free….

Love letter # 468 The beauty of autumn is the sweetness of memory. Especially in the gloaming. Where you reside, nigh divine and untouchable. In the waft of woodsmoke I dream of a hearth with you.  

Love letter # 835 How many roads have I travelled in search of belief? Schools of thought, ancient philosophers, the many isms and ideologies; these have been my citadels of faith. All have crumbled. Their gods are not merely slain but revealed to be little more than idols of fantasy. Yet I have gladly set…

For my vanished Valentines

You. All of you. Seeping through cracks in time. Splinters in splintered memory. Each of you left behind, embraced now by distance; from which I may regard, with detached perspective, the folly of erstwhile excess and the dry ache of ancient deprivation. What was I thinking? The unkept promises, the self-pitying dramas, the cruel indecisions….

Love letter # 695 There is no control; at most, precious little. Moments like this seem to emerge, whole, shining, from the greater whole. Now there is disruption. A smooth trajectory interrupted. Yours was the merest incursion. The fraction it took. A breeze, rattling doors. New sounds in the house. This morning I woke with…

Love letter # 376 I want to take you home, so that we can remove our masks. Here, we are actors. Away from this noise, we will speak truly once more. Now, they endeavour to infect us, by accident or design. Later, we shall cure ourselves of the ubiquitous malady with the honesty of presence…