The biting truth

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What is up – is it down?
What is left – is it right?
What is red – is it blue?
What is dusk – is it dawn?
What is I – is it we?

The frozen peak knows none of flats
The howling wolf knows none of barks

Glue your facts – which what is warming
Crumble your truth – which what is biting

Angels and Demons

women attending disaster preparedness training3At times I lose track
Of my demons and angels alike
(Not even lights onshore blinking
Luring me through a breathless blindness
When all is swallowed
And the heart becomes a stranger
To its body)

Not die yet.

Come demons, come
holar me back
chase me forward
make me run from you
onto shore again.

But the angels – ah – the angels!
If they’d come back;
I’d be flying.