Poems by year: 2007  2006  2005  2004  2003  2002  2001  2000 
By series: Bridge St  In Yr Ear  Ruthless Grip


Last week the origin was piled
with dust in the corner
when I swept.  I wonder now
how we manage to hold
these widening circles so tight.

In the window the birds
are held by tiny feet
and breathless balance
on a thin metal thread.


We learn to stand
by balancing the origin.


Which stillness will hold
itself in your view
one moment longer?

In one still life the bones
in the foot of a bird
curve perfectly around
the electrical wire, leaving
no room for error or fall.