Two Odes


To the blank page—
That inspires,
That waits to hold words and images and sounds:
Words simple and sharp enough
To cut diamonds;
Images colourful and emotional enough
To depress you for days;
Sounds sweet and sour enough
That you can touch them—feel them,
Clear as concrete.

To the blank page—
That I’d love to have back,
That is silence at its most musical
And most beautiful.



To the girl with hunched shoulders
And shining eyes; in whose eyes
Everything is obvious.

The surety in her voice,
The fire burning in her
That she would shyly flourish
For everyone to hear. Her
Mind always focused, like the
Clear point of a falling star
Pulled by gravity towards
An exact point.
No matter
What might change come tomorrow,
Today she knows who she is.