Children of the White Islands

Tonight, in furtherance,
the star shapes are all wrong
chilly moon

Snow everywhere
conforms to my feet
ice ants nip
I steal fur from dead warriors

In the future
when this 12-year process is over
I will have no need for dreams

~ ~ ~

Advised Intent

My father, in his elder wisdom,
told me to have 12 girlfriends
before settling down
one from each sign of the zodiac


~ ~ ~

I can see the jets today
There's one, hugs the horizon,
then up, up, zoom
A fluffy, newborn great tit pops out of the bushes
The robin stands on his dish,
taps his foot like my granny used to,
oi, where's my breakfast!

~ ~ ~