I wrote these poems in the spring and summer of 2015, before I moved about 4,000 km to make a new home on the West Coast.

That summer was grey and wet and, clinging to the idea that I should keep something of my old identity to furnish a new one, I prayed that I would find some continuity in water falling from the sky.
~

 

stones thrown in the sea
settle, pass many lifetimes
returning ashore.
~

proud, senseless rapture,
holiest cacophony –
promising nothing.
~

patient rain never
rushes – falling bodies are
never falling home.
~