On Earth

She laid her head upon my breast

And interrogated the concept

Of Infinity

Atoms nor stars had the right

As if they were born to show us our

Frailty and scant drops of eons’ seas

The least her mitochondria could do

Would be to marry her more deeply to

Mirrored lives unfolding, compact

If brief and imaginary

Because the stars and atoms’ stubbornness

Would never see them move, she said

We should dismiss them for stars made instead

On Earth, in Finity

Mostly Rhyming


I’m really excited to say that I have completed my first illustrated anthology, “Mostly Rhyming”. This is a collection of my poems interspersed with black and white digital sketches like the bunny in the boudoir above 🙂

The e-book is on Amazon in Kindle format –  and the Kindle app is free!


Offer prayers to dispassionate gods, with the ground you walk and the blood you trade. Hear, in the calls of the night and the sighs of the snow, the silence in their answers.

I was fascinated; silence as a measure of something, or of nothing at all.

But Sato was shaking his head. “You have a strange sense of humour Gen, if you were trying to be funny. That is not a book I like.”

The worn cover might have indicated otherwise, but I closed the book and folded it into my lap. Beneath one hand I still traced the sword upon its bindings, thin and crude when compared to the graceful characters traced on the pages. Continue reading “Orison”

A parting still

My lady, a voluptuous sky her only rest,

The bedchamber become a bower, become a glade,

Sings fain to dampen cheeks and furrow brows

All her own

Of what she sees, I know nothing save

She bespoke rays cleaving Apollo’s dome

Antique palettes creeping ‘pon the clouds

Once, long ago

And here this mawkish discontent of mine

Amid notes spilling chamber to chamber

Amid delights dulled to erasure

Within my breast

My lady, an unseen sky her only rest,

Seeks strings over vanished, varnished wood

And burgeoning days of warmth gone by

Now lonesome


Elizabeth Cook, 2016

White crest

There must be

a longing for adventure

There must be

a longing for the sea

I waited where

you never thought to enter

I ran the sun

around a trinity

So I leave you

a sand’s spill from the ocean

I leave you

your still and tidy wings

There is the sound

of drifting silver fountains

And with the dawn

a distant bell will ring

Let the night

renew a course and chapter

Lest the earth

grow warm beneath my feet

For there must be

a longing for adventure

There must be

a longing for the sea


Elizabeth Cook, 2015

Le film magique


En juin, les bicyclettes font les terrasses au volant

On boit l’atmosphère de verre et des roses

Puis les étoiles remplirent les rues

En jouant leurs fantaisies

Les vieux hommes ont des chapeaux-palettes

Avec lesquels ils peignent tous les portes

Et les planètes glissent par-dessous les toits

En laissant les tasses en porcelaine

Entre les jardins-nuages, le film a son début:

Tout le monde vive à Paris