Poems

Poem

I opened a book
and a hand fell out.
I turned a page
and heard a shout:
'I'm lost in a wood;
my mother's no good.'
I couldn't bear to look

Poem

The space is a friend.
I tell it what hurts.

I tell it why I'm not good.
The space is a friend.
I tell it the bother I'm in.
It won't let me tell lies.

Poem

Who will bring me the hush of a feather?
“I,” screeched the Barn Owl. “Whatever the weather.”

Who will bring me the shadows that flow?
“I,” snarled the Tiger. “Wherever I go.”