STRANGE VISITORS


They came in with the waves, their delicate bodies washed this way and that, glowing faintly in the pale light of the moon. In the morning, they lay like oddly shaped, discarded, fruit - trailing this way and that. These strange creatures, helpless to the next wave which may pick them up again and gently carry them back to shore but not helpless.

No, their tentacles still packed quite a punch.

SALT KISSED

The waves crash just in front of him, indifferent to their own might and beauty. He stood before them, eyes closed against the spray and smiled. Each spray felt like a gentle kiss - though he knew better than to let down his guard. One false step and even the strongest of swimmers, caught unaware, might be dragged down to be smashed into the sharp rocks lining the stony shores.

He waits until the waves begin the recede - then dives in.

SEEKS THE FORGOTTEN


he finds the lost—
scent-trails, nest-paths, vanished kin
but never the shape
of what he’s truly missing

a space where a dream once lived
soft-edged, unnamed
still waiting to be found

MOON'S MILK


it drips between the hours
spills thin along the backs of leaves
gathers in the mouths of stones
settles in puddles among the roots -

and the world drinks.

THE LONG NIGHT


The sky does not blink.
The trees do not sway.
The frost keeps the world
like a held breath.

Shadows stretch until they snap.
Stars burn in silence -
bright,
and far,
and cruel.

This is the night
when fires forget
how to speak.

BROTHER'S LOVE


It bites before it speaks.
It guards like a cage.
It watches what you touch -
then breaks it.

It is not given freely.
It is carved,
into flesh,
into bone,
into memory too deep to unmake.

It says you are mine
not with words -
but with the silence of watchful eyes that follow you
everywhere.

It would bleed for you -
but it will never let you go.

PET


He will come when he is called.
He always will.
Even when he hides,
he will want to be found.

He will be kept close,
and he will stay closer.
He will forget what silence felt like
before it belonged to his Brother.

Sometimes, he will be hurt.
Sometimes, he will thank him.
Sometimes, he will need the pain -
just to know he still belongs.

There will be no world without him.
No name,
no breath,
no shape of him
his Brother has not made.

He will not want to go.
Even if he could.
Even if he were abandoned.
Even if it kills him.

ICE BURN


He never flinches.
Just looks.
And the looking
is enough.

Stillness,
sharp as a knife.

It leaves a wound
with nowhere
to bleed.

HUNGER OF THE DEEP


There is no sky.
Only a darkness that breathes.

At the edge of a nothing shore,
the tide comes in
but does not leave.

The wind tastes like copper
and his teeth ache -
anticipating the hunt.

Far off,
something cries like a whale
dying.

The tide rises.
It covers his hooves,
his withers,
his neck.

He opens his mouth,
and breathes in salt water.

When he exhales
nothing comes out
but need.

And when he wakes,
he is hungry.

STARFLOWER FISH


A pebble clicks against a shell.
A bubble escapes,
pops,
and nothing minds.

Sunlight skips across barnacle crowns.
A feather settles -
then floats off again,
undecided.

A wave curls in,
spins the water bright -
anemones blinking,
shrimp kicked sideways,
bits of color everywhere.

Nothing is still.
Everything moves,
glinting in the light.

Laughter, if it had shape,
would look like this.

SLAYER

WIGHT

WET NOSE KISSES

FIRESIDE TALES

AUTUMN MORNING