let me be brief:
stillness makes a sound
which rings pure and boundless
yet leaves more nothing
in relief

This would be the other Lynne who partakes in 'scrap-booking' and for who the cheque is in the mail after helping Eimear. The Lynne who gives out my Softhome address for people to email her. Although, given what I can make of her from misdirected emails, I don't think she'd complete any of my half poems to my liking.

Today as I was doing my regular Monday housework I really started to miss living by myself. I get on with me pretty reliably. There was never any frustration about me leaving my crap everywhere, or cooking some kind of sauce then leaving the pan unrinsed and sauce splattered all over the stove and floor. And if I was the only one that ever did any serious cleaning... that was a fair distribution of labour.  read more »

language -
repulsive thing
why make frantic
sparks which only
dazzle but will never
bring this blackness
to an end

I lived a life today
the pleasure
in its wake was
mighty small.
And as I pass I
say "I'm fine"
I'm fine, it's fine, I
don't recall another
way to be.

I went to sleep today
and dreamed
in secret that
the morning
wouldn't come to bring
the pain. I
say "I'm fine." I'm fine -
but I can't take
another day.

October 1999

I have made love
on my deathbed
many a time
made light and
what's the use?
what did I find?
whispers fade away
to mocking echoes
(what did I find?)

I was never found
on my deathbed
many a time
of heady promise
did we lie?
was I alone?
many things we say
the hollow world returns
(what did I find?)

what's left to say
too few words
are left and
nothing's innocent
anymore
remember, maybe,
trust - or - could
are hamstrung,
crippled things
they weigh me down

there's nothing personal
in awkward pauses
ardent fits and starts of
taut insight offer
nothing, honestly
I'm glad to pass them by
between the lines the
love escapes unnoticed
tail between it's legs
a sorry casualty
nothing personal - just
happens that I'm glad