is one of a mass of primates...


The indeterminable sky -

A smattering of blues and greys

As the day grows old,

Nuanced in its denouement.

The long summer grasses

Stir and murmur

With a listless breeze

And the business of insects.

Two crows on tilted wings

Loud with endless sass,

Careen sarcastically

Over tufts of pungent yarrow.

This, suffusing

A single moment

In a sweeping tract of moments

In which I wait for you.

- kc


To plainly know

what is right

and what is not,


the Gaussian blur

on my eyes,

Despite the fracture


of landscape

and the fresh shudder

of misalignment,

Is a lithe

Unfolding strength - 

an unexpected

sinuosity of self


To quiver and flex,

but set fast

In accordance with 

some unearthed


Raise my head, square up

with the transience of what is.


- kc



Despair - 

low grade, worming, 

not fatal:


A relentless sense of loss

shadowed behind the heart.

Something I've become


accustomed to - 

heaviness, a sighing in the veins,

an immutability lost to articulation


keeping me apart.



The mass effect of it,

a petrification, a pulling nervosa 

that harries each landscape.


This quiet, coiled up grief

that stays, still weighs

despite the passing of years, the


distance from one life and 

inevitably, this other.

I am away,





But I will,

I have decided,

I will plod towards


the quivering murmurations of light.

I will inhale

emanations of loamy earth.


I will heave my way forward

until I disappear beneath myself

or lift up, like a heron from the field,


into the crumbling grey mist.


- kc