Tag Archive for Imagism

The Human Condition

A small



lights a glass cube

in which stands

a little man

casting his own



Half Mast

Love is the warmest breeze—

Sailing with the deepest breath

Tugging at the summer dress


And it’s not that

the dress lies flat on my knees;

Or that the sail doesn’t catch a breeze


Because I’ll tell you

My summer dress has been tugged at last

And the sail is hanging at half mast

Sink, To

Thirty-five miles until we

reached the exit, the sign read, that has

meant Christmas to me

since I was six.

So I tried to sink back

into my seat, discovering, though,

that once you have sunken

all the way, you have to

sit up again, surface for air, and wait

a time until you can sink


In a green minivan flashing by

a girl looked skyward as she

sat silent with her headphones.

How far was she

from her exit?


The driveway was smooth black as

we pulled in, glistening with melted

flurries as we left.

Back on the highway, swimming

with the red glow, watching the white light

flowing against us.

Trying to sink, heading home.


The flames do their elaborate dances to silent music only they can hear. The sparks fly into the midsummer sky for their short minute of glory, then plummet back to the earth and disappear. The wood performs an art show with its orange burning embers.

And meanwhile we humans take all this for granted and call it just a bonfire.


The sun set itself amongst the tall buildings, flinging its dying breath of light across the city. Dark reds and oranges danced between the buildings, chasing each other down narrow streets. Clouds glowed a vibrant red and brown for only a few minutes, before the sun disappeared, and the remaining light flowed away, like rain water down a street drain. Then the moon edged its way across the sky, bringing with it the darkness of the night.

“Are you OK?”


“I asked if you were OK?”

“Yes I’m fine. I was just… watching the sunset.”

“Oh right.” She began to walk away.

“It was beautiful wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t notice it, sorry.” She walked further away.

“Maybe you should.” I said.

“Pardon?” She stopped walking.

“Maybe you should stop, and take more notice.”

“OK, thanks.” She carried on walking, and was quite far away by now.

“It’s important,” I shouted as she turned the corner. She was a long way away. And I don’t think she heard me.