Mike Pickering

What is? What are the words? Is there precise poetry?Can anything but poetry be precise? There is the world /…

She said, did time just stop?Through a slow tunnel, and theWorld rushed together, sparkling, flashing Whirling in an infinite secondIn…

You embrace me, I am frozenWith my arms pinned to my sidesYou fill me, my heart exploding slowly. You pour…

We are technical and factual.  Putting things in their place, walking around scenes, watched by life.  How does it feel,…

I love the heat, breathing it in, feeling the sun’s hug. And the night air, still, the same temperature as…

Lotus pond does not grow, disappointingSays the brother, and always porridge in the morningBreathe in, breathe outBreathe up, breathe down…

Mind slows and watches itself ..letting the flow settle it eddies momentarily catching debris, creating miniature pools, swirling and then…

I am hangingSuspended over sandSilence. Rocks and sand and IListening to every nothing.A fly travel-buzzing through,Quiet air lazily closing behind,A…

The desert lies solid, shepherdingBringing the day from the nightHeat, light, life andThe world slowly rises,Resuming… Things lying heavy, holding…

What happens when your heart explodesIn a boxAn exploded heart wants to be everywhereAnd forms a box-shaped heartExplodes again and…

Shards of noiseBlasts of lightEchoes tripping fromMouth to mouth We feel our way, fearfulCreating mazes of sound,utterance, gesture, scribblingTo make…

The silence of the night isWhere Love grows, Where the World is, Where the World grows Poetry emerges from the dark, andBeauty…

And then Dad saysThe world, I am starting to think,May be more than it seems “I saw a woman speakTo…