Rains Descend

Rains descend upon my head The sky grows dark and chill The rush surround my mind and soul To freeze my halting will Clouds move o’er the dawning sun And halt the marching light My vision dims throughout the morn And shrinks into the night Fogs envelope mind and frame The world becomes a haze …

She Calls to Me

She calls to me. The fair island.   Her fragrant scent, so sweet, so full of death and growth, flows o'er the oceans vast that stretch so tautly on our mother's swollen womb with dark and melancholy histories distending in a body's sullen soul by resonating peals; a paradox, a pox of reeling brews that ply …