the last sin
  pale ashen sky
a bleary eye
clouds of recurring screams...
i am a zoo
  an octopus leviathan
tentacles into an ocean
of unformed emotions...
syphilis and love  
  syphilitic pall
stifles the clear blue
i contort...
 
shell and pearl
  amidst highs and lows
in life's ocean flows
a shell peony-mouthed...
 
i am an unmarried mother
 
  fed on stings
of barbed milk morality
my child-plankton...
 
the lovers
  cell upon cell
bridge of their union
hung on the pillars...
rebirth
  ogre of age
and time cavil
at a warm picture...
the young today
  innocence thaws
at the altar
of ambition...
 

internet as therapy

as i surf
the meandering alleys
of iridescent cyberspace
in hot sun and cool moon nights
i meet the god of pixels
small pieces loosely joined
together they form
inter-state highways
of celestial intercession
highways that are
an end in themselves
roads to a nowhere destination
filled with fellow travellers
call it a gathering of wanderers
wannabe Sufis everyday people
desperate housewives middle-aged managers
occult practitioners runners gunners
mystics and devils on the prowl
a motley crowd in search
of their anchors questing
for information
that can turn into knowledge
and maybe one very long
eternal day burn into wisdom
but let’s not get confused
with the reward at the end
of the gravel-lined tunnel
it’s a search ceaseless
the process is the solution
round and round it goes
and then falls into place
placid and tired
but restorative
for lost souls

in finding
understanding
and connecting
lies the therapy
for the seeker
the dot worshipper

(3 April 2005)