Poem: The Secret Commonwealth


When our world wanes,
Theirs waxes

While we are in the depths of winter,
Fern-curled, involute,
A dying ember in the throat of December

That’s when sparks collide,
Green men thawing in solstitial madness,
Each one alert to seedbursts –
The collected secrets of an invisible nation

Under the oaks,
When The Commonwealth is in session,
The senators pour forth from acorn cups
The nectar of their wisdom

With the elemental refrain
Of ancients, worn and weary,
Dancing in the rain, souls unchained
From decay’s fertile misery

Their faces carved on misericords,
Infecting the pews of churches,
Grotesque mouths, spewing leaves,
Yew berries and hemlocks weaves,
Will see them all deserted

When the primal temple,
The faery faith,
From the soil is resurrected,
Tired monotheists, clutching straws,
To paganism defected

Poem: Moth Messenger



Moth majestic, battering my window,
Wings insistent, the arms of nocturne,
Reaching for a silent thought,
Symbolic revenant in a world of loss

In the lap of Hecate, dark lunar energy,
Patterns caressed by darkened hands,
A barrier of invisible magic
Barricades you from hinterlands

Introvert, internal, innerworldly,
A world of light in caverns wrought
Of land-locked gravity’s downward motion
Far away from Moths’ silver thoughts

Yet trapping starlight, far-off glaciers,
By which you tacitly navigate,
Never divulging the secret language
Teaching humans of their fate

Like Raukatauri, Maori goddess,
Divinity strained – legends dilute –
Hiding away moth majestic,
In the hollows of a sacred flute

Poem: Areop-Enap


Ancient Spider, your web before you,
Desolate, uninhabited,
A beach of infinite necessity,
Strewn with shells,
Horn-shorn spirals,
From which your cosmos will be created

Into one you scuttle,
Cramped, back-breaking,
The tight jaws of Life
Yet to be prised open
By your exoskeletal defiance

How can you do it?
With all your legs arrayed
In sand crystal alignments:
The Stars, The Moon, The Black Goddess of Death,
Laying crouched in clam-crushed corners,

The covert – the occult –
This is the womb of all Life –
The hidden web of untallied numbers,
Abstracting potentials in the darkness