Featured Poems

Jasmine

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‘Como un ciego, regresé al jazmín 

de la gastada primavera humana.’ 

‘The jasmine in the garden
of humankind's wasted spring.’

- Pablo Neruda

The aureole of the streets shines

a constellation of fumes and dust.

Buildings laced with stalls of jasmine and ivy.

Woody stalks and bursting blooms in stellar hues –

Vanilla-yellow, opal and white, 

sweet, heady and impatient.

The city, a grand cemetery.

Air glides past timeless tombs,

a mingling of half-dried flowers, pink and marble. 

Stalked by sunset, the light begins to fray, 

as I hold up the jasmine to the dusk

and memorialise this day.

Styx

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Deep khaki water in the heat of midsummer seethes

drowsy through the black oak, the stifled wind strives to breathe.

The frosted-glass river is thick with algae and jellyfish flow by the 

banks,

phantoms laying in the wake.