The flight left (Dream)

A flight left from the abandoned


with yellow grease smeared

on the dusty windows

I wasn’t on it

my tattered bags were waiting

in a discontinued baggage lounge

no one could tell me

how I could jump

through the rumble of clouds

into my cracked seat on the plane

with no destination

there was a sense of panic

and the roar and scream of motors

that were gone

absolutely gone

as the dark waves lapped

against the rocky shore

I had to be on that flight

but it was gone

absolutely gone


Photo by Dan Fraser

I have been swallowed

by the desperation of time

and the day that follows

and the next

then there is the noise of it all

and the eyes


What are the fires that smoulder 

in the dark shadows of my eyes?

Who lives in the ashes

of my anger and lost dreams?

Is there comfort in the pile

of old bodies I have used up

and thrown away?

What of the one left now?

Can I still burn the stars of night

with reaching hands?

I am a shadow of myself.


A small stream sings softly

to itself and the green world

as it turns this way and that

always down, flows fast and slow

around boulders and branches

always down

merging with the sea

always down

when were the choices made

Trump World

I have become addicted

to the dark of hand and voice.

Every day I challenge the limits

of my outrage

but it continues to elude me.

There seems to be no end

to my shock and pain

at the anger of the world.

Will the next nightmare

be the last one

Will there be a last one?

The language of distance

Photo by Dan Fraser


My tongue searches

for the language of distance

in the iron grip of near

inside out, turned around


my eyes naked fire in space

in the grip of distance

the very near distance


The slender path of words

Photo by Dan Fraser

Following the slender path of words

I see a misty silver line 

turning and twisting

down the rocky face in my mirror

do they whisper in the voice of stars

are they silent like the blink of eye

Is this my circle

Photo by Dan Fraser

When I don’t want to see

what I see

I turn away and turn away

around in a circle

now what do I see

do I see myself

or do I keep turning and turning

around in a circle

is this my circle

Mousie Paints Wildflowers


The Mousie videos my wife is making have been a wonderful addition to our lives. Young children (and seventy old children) seem to really enjoy them. It is so peaceful in Mousies enchanted world. If you watch her painting wildflowers and think of any people who might also like to go there, please feel free to share it with them. Dan