Sunday, 23 December 2012

Winter Morning

I wake where it's too dark to read.
Winter makes a page at my window.
My coffee is a cup of night.
I wake where it's too dark to read
stops me from going further
to the axe, gull, shore.
Winter turns a page at my window.
My coffee is a cup of words.
I wake where it's too dark to read
all but the page of winter
at my word-filled window.

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Pages

Morlock Oil

Morlock Oil
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The Quest Of Great Celtic Mystery

The Quest Of Great Celtic Mystery
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Furrow

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