your words matter
and deserve all the space
i can give them

ai li

d  e  w  -  o  n  -  l  i  n  e
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one

created, designed & edited
______________________________________________

by  ai  li

dedicated to the readers of still
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out of still

puddle         i step         into your sky

                        My thoughts somewhere else
                        in the quiet by the lake...
                        coolness as rain breaks

firefly to star . . . . . . . .  the long long night

                        what can you
                        teach me about love?
                        one morning, you'll awake
                        & tell me, you need
                        some space

fridgewordmagnets

                        waiting for mother
                        somewhere else
                        she waits for us

                        old friend
                        old shed
                        both dressed in green

                        by morning, the old woman is dead

                        last night
                        sipping on cold tea

                        she smiles . . .
                        remembering
                        her wedding dance.

    write about the raindrop on a watercolour

canoe upturned-
darkening the tee shirt
her nipples

                        what gives me
                        more ecstasy . . .
                        a calla lilly opening
                        or your fingers
                        exploring me?

                        all afternoon
                        cloud shadows
                        snaking over hills:
                        your face in my heart
                        pursuing someone else

                        winter night--
                        bench vacated by lovers
                        still warm

                        the man
                        in the underground
                        baring all
                        right hand on
                        a muscle

                        winter rain -
                        shoulder to window
                        and thoughts of her

                        will work for food
                        his sign
                        offers

DOLLAR  BILL  GATES

                        all over
                        the empty courtyard
                        a moon
                        throwing silver

                        Birthday morning -
                        a note from
                        the cleaning lady
                        asking to borrow
                        three thousand dollars.

the  trinket  shop----that  jingle  jangle  jungle

                        My friend is a monk!
                        He takes us home. What's there?
                        Nothing. Only space.

                        all night
                        a rodent chewing away
                        at the house

                                      and God        strict
                                      as a URL

                        grandmother's closet
                        finding gifts
                        never opened-
                        snow slides
                        off the roof

                        writing e-mails
                        in my sleep

                        his winter coat
                        hung on
                        his fishing line

                        Sunny day
                        yesterday's
                        snow man

                        Back from separate holidays -
                        suntan under her wedding ring.

                        our eyes
                        climb a mountain
                        from the window seat

                        a slow walk
                        over the leaves,
                        under the leaves

                        the farmhouse
                        torn down long ago
                        elderberries

                        the last butterfly
                        tries to match with
                        the last flower.

                        after your leaving
                        all I have ever done
                        is pass the time

                        again today

                        I worked
                        on the big poem -

                        soon
                        there will be
                        crocuses

the people in the woods without condoms

                        beside the clear river
                        December moon
                        butterflies everywhere

for Gavin

                        - a poem in
                          my head, but
                          no biro -

                        mid-ocean ... swimming
                        in the cruise-liner's pool
                        I hear the call
                        of an inland sea
                        and dive under

                        full-moon on
                        exquisite breeze
                        blooms jasmine ~

                        phone to my ear
                        I let her rant
                        cross
                        an uncrossed
                                           t

                        Leaves

                        fall rainlike around me

                        i step through them, remember

                        your lips on my cheek

HOLLYWOODLOUSE

                        since we don't meet any more
                        you might like to know
                        the mighty copper beech
                        has fallen and lies across
                        the path of our old walk

                        fullmoon night -
                        cycling home,
                        shadows of trees

                        a fifty year old
                        unsolved murder
                        her boy all grown up now
                        coming back to haunt
                        orphaned space

for James Ellroy

                        Valentine's Day -
                         a vial of ebola
                         in the heart-shaped box.

                        self-amused
                        crow shares his joke
                        with the whole block

                        the sound of the dryer
                        the sound of monk
                        silence in between

                        Evening...  Wine...
                        Troubles are taken away
                        By quiet talk

                        Door slam stops sentence.
                        Seventeen steps down, each drop--
                        Rain on grey slate.

                        broken termite bridge
                        over blue stream casts shadows
                        on chinese goldfish

                                                                                            Dereliction

                        I stand at the sink, staring at the garden,
                        hands poised in benediction over the washing up
                        I am thinking about poetry.
                        The kids are screaming around the kitchen table.
                        I am derelict in thought
                        and derelict in need.
                        After several minutes
                        the garden is still the garden
                        and the washing up remains,
                        unblessed, unclean,
                        like me, high and dry.

                        the long walk
                        home
                        my hands
                        in your gloves
                        first evening star

                        When the banks of a
                        river are flooded and the
                        grass and trees are bent
                        with the onrush of water,
                        then there is falling in love.

                        that woodsmoke kiss
                        a corner of the garden
                        without you . . .

                        autumn leaves
                        the turtle eggs
                        that never hatched

                        jumping a soft paw
                        - the cricket is gone.

                        Late winter sun on
                        my neighbour's drawn face:
                        life lines
                        it's always regret
                        that etches deep . . .

                        dictatrix
                        
                        adolfhitler
                        and
                        charliechaplin
                        used
                        thesamemoustache

                        January dawn.
                        Above bright breakfast clatter
                        The white, remote moon.

walk along the margin moving gulls

                        clatter of shutters
                        
                        at siesta time

                        Once this hummingbird
                        has penetrated to the
                        depths of your garden
                        will you let him escape with
                        his honey or keep him there?

                        in a sweet shop
                        a mouth
                        being unfaithful

                        only you tell me the truth
                        cried the heiress
                        to her mirror

                        perspective:
                        I hide
                        behind my hand from her.

a coffee ring on my copy of tolkien

                        ONCE

                        i looked
                        and what i saw
                        gave me delight

                        you looked
                        and what you saw
                        gave you delight

                        still here
                        in what we are
                        what we have been

                        if we
                        could blink away
                        the years
                                        between

                        wishing
                        I could take back what I said
                        black water

                        packing
                        an overnight bag
                        as i watch bergman leave
                        casablanca
                        in black & white

                        clouds gather
                        on the Perspex
                        of ticket machine

                        a bicycle
                        rides into the sunset
                        after the equinox
                        the man
                        smiles enigmatically
                        and disappears

f i n i s

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you
are invited
to submit your
poems and artwork for
future editions of the organic
dew-on-line
off-shoot of still