            SIBLING
              If yours was mine
                 And mine was yours
                 Would you sour sister share
                 These holy crumbs I spill.
              Could I then bear
                 this sulky sister’s surly glare
                 on glossy lip
                 and gleaming hair

Loose Ends:
Your ice tip name
Pan Peter's friend
a square berg in my rounded sea
floating archeology.
Our loving words and
ancient voices drowned
my submerged sin
bottom crawling still.
Does he haunt you too
that first time child?
Can his be the smudged face
of local crime or
one of the holy wave's Xeroxed lost?
Does he spider bleed now
abed the metalled ribboned road
or does his mongrel blood still sing
in the subtle night
in tune with our disparate tonality?

First Book	Second Book	Third Book
Brother mine	Thy Days	Sibling
Damaged good	What shape a poet	Herculean expectations
Barrel bottom fruit	Creative Burying	Ressurection
Bottom line	Regret	Times End
On the dying edge	Spider Time	In Memoriam : Twice Round
Biting Free	Earth Turns	Eight Pints
Id rider	Old Dog	Sinking Heart : Drop
Only worms will know you better	Eye to Eye	Swim : Drift
Thrice crows	Autumn	Coming Home
Friends in High Places	The night the church burnt	Passage
Poet bones	Last Strand	Speed Crazy
Katadesmoi	Ashes to Ashes	Sinking Heart

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THE 'MORRIS' STUDIO : Presenting a selection of work for sale by Eric W. Morris

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