Thick Skin

Not newborn skinpuddle ice, this.

Calloused, thick,

Barrier excludes blood

From heart of stone

Lest it beat and fulfill its function.

Stubborn film rejects sunshine,


Content to stagnate frozen

In primordial ooze

Lest the mess that lurks beneath

Be exposed, raw in its stench.

Your skin has kept emotions contained,

Given you a measure of control

Over the uncontrollable.

See here, the crown of thorns

Which pierces hearts of ice.

Take hold of the spear

Which alone penetrates

Thick skin.

Be melted.

Drip with awe.

And watch your dirty little secrets

Dry up and turn to dust

Before the Light of the World.

The Great Reversal


Gravity snowed your shoulders cold,

bent your burdened frame,

watched while troubles multiplied,

whispered words of shame;

Ascension climbed on trouble’s back,

chose the way of love –

soared above the blizzard where

forgiveness reigns above.




Her head hangs

by a thread

eyes scanning dirt

as if to seek the soul

hidden under a crust

of regret

The burden of proof

on burdened shoulders

grips her gaze

with enough gravity

to tie her eyes to earth

but oh! humble heart,

you cannot outweigh


you cannot sink

beneath it

or plod past it

or hang low enough

to mar its magnificence

So look up

set your eyes

beyond this sin-stained soil

to the air beyond

your reach

for it is here

that grace



Disaster DIY

broken home


It’s not broken.

Just needs a coat of paint

and someĀ appliance


Children raised here

will not grow

crooked backs or

necks or

morals or

hearts. Give them

extra birthday presents

and they’ll be fine

breathing in the dust

of our broken dreams

and bearing the


of our renovations.

She Hides

ruffed grouse


She hides her soul from prying,

pulls invisibility

close, feathered mantle shielding

vulnerable organs. Should

strangers breach her barriers,

happen suddenly upon

her inner sanctum, retreat

protocols dictate complete

withdrawal, complete shut-down.


So when she hears her Maker’s

footsteps in the garden, she

freezes, terrified, lest His

x-ray vision spy her here,

naked; not comprehending

a Love without boundaries

or condemnation, she hides.


This ruffed grouse didn’t understand that I meant her no harm, and beat a fast retreat. Is there a bond between her kind and mine, after all?

Courting Disaster

Morden Blush rose

She’s courting Disaster – slicked

down hair, reptilian smile,

morals twisted like the coils

of a rattler. She treasures

her trinkets and calls herself

‘Loved’ by virtue of their sheer

volume, dreaming of white lace

and cooing progeny while

he plunders her dignity,

moonlight carnivore thirsty

for flesh. She dates Denial,

but she’s courting Disaster…

The Hall Clock



When she can’t hold them (the sheer

weight of burdened hypotheses) they

fall, a ticker-tape parade of broken


pregnant with remorse. And even then,

they cling like maggots, feeding

on death, slavering in the frenzy; she

accepts the onslaught as necessary

(even natural), as a part of her due

for past errors, flagellation

working mystical redemption

on her Prometheus soul. She

will allow herself one hour

by the hands of

the hall clock before she expels

the notion; dry-eyed

and encased in armour

she will complete

the month’s living,

counting the moments

in heaps until her

next breakdown.