Born is the wind
Because love is a catastrophe
Wings unopened
Restlessness in the open
Wrath upon the wild
Life is neither, with or without you
I saw you
Where the wild Osprey sleeps
I am both, night and day
Numb in the sceptriferous noise
Woebegone be the wind through the petals
Pour my love into thee
Love is a wasteland
The weathered scalpeled bonds of colours arouse
My eyes
Sometime’s beautiful
Love is a wasteland
To be held by winter’s bones
Love my companion
O winter my opulent friend
O the white rose
Born into the water that has travelled
West into the midlands
O my white rose
Drown me in such light
Wash the borrowed grass with a new sun
Leave the crying mires
O Love, it is a bird
Crying in my hand
Cry out from the east
O my soul
O my soul
Least I wither
Witherdom in chains
Chaste robins wait in earnest
Climbing into loneliness
Are the dandelions
Longing are the ravens of the west
Sighing are the bridges of my discontent
Woebegone
My love, longing are the shores upon your breast
Lost are the shooting stars
West of thy soul
East of thy soul
North of my heart
Forever
Waiting on the rim
Of clouds
.
