ear-mark #7

April 14th, 2009 by sepia

trusting the great outdoors is not ensuring the doors are safely locked, but sleeping listlessly under the sky…

ear-mark #6

April 2nd, 2009 by sepia

“Don’t we all fear the unknown?”

“Yes, but the unknown is never as dreaded as maggots in a stitched-up wound.”



March 29th, 2009 by sepia

Tidal evenings, and we sit -
thirsty, amused, alone.
All or none.

Refusing every perchance to
take the simplest route home.
To make that journey…
And the roving adventure,
waits her at the pier -
Shaking, with her hesitation.

A happy cog has come loose,
like that ‘out of joint’ symphony -
where each pore, in oblivion,
longs for the other’s company.

The details they write on silt
‘i’ll feature in your fairy tale’
The unspoken promises they honour
‘this lock must never come undone’
The fears they closely nurse
‘are thoughts too, utterances?’

The tide watches them a long while.
She’s the heel, Achilles;
the weakest link, a moment to salvage.


March 24th, 2009 by sepia

‘no’ is my answer,
for the questions may soon
begin to pour threateningly.

‘here’ is my guess,
though the act of pre-empting
is a showcase of my own fears.

‘live’ is my moment,
and the wonder of discovery
lays no promise of destination.

ear-mark #5

March 19th, 2009 by sepia

Perhaps we all give the best of our hearts uncritically…to those who hardly think about us in return.

- T.H.White

wise-foolery : 3

March 4th, 2009 by sepia

it’s no wonder that half-a-pirouette can,
and will, change the direction of your life.
it’s no solace that mourning is legal,
and helps breathing in cold canisters of strife.

it’s no magic that what fogs the vision
in an awkward hiatus, can also set your song free.
it’s no wisdom that a lot of foolish pain
goes behind a graceful stroke of dissolute glee.

but there’s wisdom and wonder,
and magic and solace – in every drop of that fuzzy potion;
for the company to those midnight fiestas is
but a forged poetic – forever in lost, meandering motion…

ear-mark #4

January 16th, 2009 by sepia

Good lighting makes for good portraits
But bad lighting makes for better puns

wise-foolery : 2

January 15th, 2009 by sepia

set in a corner, a cot..that creaks
with each move..of the imperfect spine
- silent, curved –
kept away sleep,
to grab and seal..each passing second.
some wish woven into sleeplessness,
and the view from the side,
still waiting – for perfection.

It doesn’t come by easy.

to sit with pain,
without moving to hide it,
or wanting to fix it,
in the smaller part of a room..adorned
- a make-shift curtain -
by which, feelings that made living with oneself
difficult..were felt.

Almost lived.

the music that surges past emotion
– endearing in its strangeness –
still plays on.
the same cot, new sheets..creaks still.
even the stars that show up in the sky
every other night aren’t the same..twice.

But at least they seem so. Once in a while, they do.


January 1st, 2009 by sepia

i tip-toe on his feet and pull my breath in
to reach the bower his shoulder is;
putting a lid on the evening
that mustn’t flee the silent kiss..

‘knotting is an art’, they say,
‘you can’t perfect all-alone’
what do they know, they
haven’t tried to un-connote

some days, it’s a game of hopscotch
we bend the rules with chalky palms
for what the blue skies witnessed
could oh boy, never go wrong

and then are evenings of tangerine
we fall out of words, before we fall out
of cresting fights, a troughing scene
- landing into old, legal, prosaic mourn

the door unhinged, waning shadows still compete -
to narrate, is absurd; frills fancy but tame,
..i deny modals like the abandon of fine sleet
and naked verbs bid the undoing of his name.

ear-mark #3

December 3rd, 2008 by sepia

Frenzy rides on a forbidden rule
Laud the cynic, Listen to the fool