leaves fall

merlot, brick and ruby-red

leaving fall through air

spin, shift against the sky,

lifting winds, carrying the breeze

as people rise and alight on the sparks

of fire overhead, colours blazing

patterns altering, yet repeating

cosmic truths of certainty, like Fall

days watching leaves escape

from elms


I spend

hours and hours searching for the right image

to say what I want, what I think, how I feel


for free I find

time collapsing in a proliferation of mirrors jostling

the billion-dollar sharing economy replacing single units

of people telling each other how they feel, what they want,

who they are, for real


to depict the enhanced digital age, I search for hours

to spend

speaking truth to power

the Mystic for the Titan bled

words a streams of steamy red

speaking truth to power led

to isolation in her head


time for change had come and gone


the Titan to the Mystic said

pray for peace or else we’re dead

too long on lies her spirit fed

proxy tears decline to shed


for drowning voices in the dark


the Mystic and the Titan: who is who?