Thursday, 17 July 2014


Empty now, my breakfast bowl
somberly thinking (‘What is Next?’)
of blue, green, yellow powder pills
and a brew of side-effects.

Monday, 7 July 2014

The Day After

Twenty four hours
into minutes, seconds (even smaller)
but, looking back,
only by story, metaphor, simile
can I Feel-that-Day again
like the sunshine of an orange skin,
(or the journey of a train with volcano cans of beer)
the flesh soft and tangy, juicy as a sponge
dripping ocean sap
and a dream somewhere in between the story of a day;
the sense and the non-sense
warped by brainbox,
itself soft as ripe red melon
fragmented in memory at the end of the day:
pages, physics, juice, included.

Thursday, 26 June 2014

Three Spitfires

And it wasn’t the moving of curtains like breathing
or the clicking of buildings settling down for the night
but a distant loud roaring of engines and thunderbolts
and his name on the roll-call; insects and kites.
And it wasn’t the twitching of curtains like breathing
or the clicking of buildings in the night and the night
but the nearby quiet roaring of blood in the arteries
and the checklists and wheelchairs; halogen lights.
And it wasn’t the twitching of eyelids one evening
or throat-boxes sobbing defying the night
but the nearby quiet roaring of blood in the arteries
and inbreath – and outbreath; - emerald flight.

Saturday, 14 June 2014

Oh Emily,

because the train had stopped for God,
it also stopped my breath –
the carriage held the two of us
- my fractal soul – and Death.

We both stepped down – ‘Mind the Gap’ –
and neither He nor I
looked back to see what we had left
inside the carriage aisle.

We walked along the platform edge
but dragged no suitcase there,
ignoring all the yellow lines,
already paid – the fare.

Our ticket passed through turnstiles
- we felt the tangy air
and sailed away – in Charon’s boat -
- On time – At Last – Aware.

Slow – our ark sank in the sea -
explored a wreck of pain
- until I saw a bait - and line -
- hopped on another train.

Monday, 26 May 2014


look across a forest glade at me.

Every green leaf in movement and a breeze touching.
From my side, I see multitudinous waving
and You.
                     You hear another voicebox
                     asking hard questions;
‘Would you like to join my dream?
Will you let me join your dream?
Why cross this glade?
How far can we reach?’

Look across a river at me.

Cold water spinning us far
if we jump together now.
                        But would you jump if I jumped
first and would I follow you?
“Would you join my flow?
Will I take your journey?
How far can we sail?
Can we swim upstream?’

Look across a caldera.

It’s hot in there and would kill us quickly
so let us walk anti clockwise.
                                    But if you circle, and so do I,
we will not meet, denying heat.
‘So shall I stop and wait?
Or will you wait for me?
How long will we linger?
Or turn and slide away?’

Look from a mountain top back towards me.
Shall we drop the nonsense, friend?
Together. Leap. And fly!

Wednesday, 16 April 2014

At Easter, well

I know it’s reckless
imagine you were God – not really God
but more a concept of a lamb and lion God
and sent a dove into a North-South earth-ice
and fished for men inside the East-West wind-fire.
How do you feel inside your spirit heart?
Would you turn out to become a little cross?

Tuesday, 1 April 2014

Book of Mormon

The theatre safety curtain shows
a cloudscape reaching blue aflame
like fiery ascension
or manipulation by a politician.

From the melee, every face arriving
encounters programme, iPhone
or partner, with senses conniving
craftily before a Big Show.

A trumpeter is practicing scales
clashing with the theatre of buzz
but the war ain’t started yet.

Drums overcome that puzzling trumpet
with an all American grin, anticipation,
firepower. Shock and Awe.