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  @wordsmith A most worthy reply, and a scene of contrast. I do miss when poets used to do this. Whole noticeboards and chatrooms of back and forth improv. Aroha nui, Tash

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  @wordsmith I open my brain and stuff falls out, of varying quality. That is, when my brain decides to pour me out. I write what I can, because I am never sure if it is the last one.

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  Climbing is an attachment of sorts, mother, father, lovers, a child to clutch and to adhere to, abseil and anchored, until disowned, until forsworn, until loss and then they're just gone. #poetry #Tashpoetry #writing

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  Apparently, I have 468 followers. At least 460 who have taken a vow of silence.

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  @wordsmith The odd thing about social media, is that it is anything but social.

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  Blue skies and distemper, a saturating storm in the teacup of God, or worse — meaning Man, always on the cusp of a misnomer, Sapiens, my arse, knowing nothing while breaking it all the same, Breaking it all; all the same. #poetry #Tashpoetry #TashInTheClouds #writing

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  Ghosts don't glide, they walk. See, there's one next to you right now. Tip to toe, grounded and ungraved, disinterested. Pacing, in temporal remembrance. Waiting, in the dead weather, for their feet to leave the ground, steeped in forever, not unlike you. #poetry #TashPoetry #Tashintheclouds #writing

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  I bought two #poetry books this week.

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  @wordsmith In my study, so far. The weather has been too stormy with a cyclone around here.

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  Watching television for 600 calories, above the whir of a climbing treadmill. I can’t hear them — the voices, the actors miming; the good guy in the white hat always unequivocally distant. Off the tread now, into a different stasis — stretching the tendons, unable to watch, belly down, not lip reading, the tinnitus, not helping with the shaking, the verbal memory, the bruising past, nor a past of bruises, undiscerning. Push up, It’s time to push up. #poetry #TashInTheClouds #TashPoetry

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  There is cinnamon in the wine, a carmine swirl, for taste while mouthing a song of ambivalence, played loudly with decadence, like tripping over existentialism, a crash, almost with some worthy meaning. Incoherence, with splashes of colour, turned to rage, and other hateful hate and such paralyzing griefs. #poetry #TashPoetry #writing

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  Tumble out of bed, as from a drain, unwholesomely, an impulsive discharge — a migration to the next ex- it. The heart strays, restless with gravity, oddly, a non-Newtonian punching bag, while the inviolable head says don't touch me, just don't. No. The grey skies always match the threadbare curtains. #poetry #TashPoetry #writing #TashInTheClouds

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  'Pissing Down' Rock walls sway when watered, cascade into a pleasantness, for the rainbows, and the tourists, the homeless, in the car parks, waiting for the loos and a little providence, par excellence, something Godly for a prayer's due, and perhaps a little less rain. #poetry #TashInTheClouds #Tashpoetry #writing

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  A willow vine in the breeze, winding as random prose is wont to do, cluttering a mind's shape. See, with an askance glance, a couple's kiss against the green, the twine of feelings, tightening. Feel, the love sickness, slow movement and the change, the leaves, twisting into serif knots, into bruised fists and other fanciful shapes, then look away. #poetry #writing #tashpoetry