There’s something I want to tell you,

something that’s very important,

but I’m not sure my words

can capture it, and even if they could

I’ve been told that if I speak them I will die,

but the person who told me that didn’t realise

that this is important enough to me to take the risk,

so listen carefully …

DF. W-S 2005 XXXIX/II

So here it is, my poetry,
the clobber of transformation
that I cart around with me
so I can see things anew,
so I can feel the dust mote
of inspiration falling,
expanding in my head,
first into an image,
then into a line,
a precious line
that tumbles out
and leads to another
and then another
until they are all falling,
trailing colours behind them
that mix with my tears as they do.

DF. W-S 2005 XXXIX/I