Saturday, 20 June 2009

The Toadfish Work

…the onward car and traveling train,

the earphones, ipods, bags and macs,

the shuddering seat and flying swans

and lady laughing at her screen

and so I stagger out of this box

and twitter with a taxi man:


about I face, twitter, taxi,

into a  carriage and backwards car

reversing homeward, crazy, speeding


macs and bags and ipods, earphones,

the train traveling and car onwards.


I slowly open my front door,

yak and yak and lie and snore

and then re-dawn, return, and then…


Friday, 19 June 2009

3rd Little pig

After the Fire

I got central heating,

some tedious meetings

and an easy chair.

Thursday, 18 June 2009

The Bridge

Let’s step towards vibrating dawn

from gloom to light, quivering delight;

stroll on a path, turn time around

- any backward glances drain our future.


Feel for a fall in every movement:

ends and means don’t  mean an end:

lust to act and drop every moment

into sunshine - away with shadow.


There He stands across a bridge

- sets no traps - so trip the trap,

reach for fingers, feel no edges;

smiling eyes and laugh out loud.


Wednesday, 17 June 2009

Can't sleep

in a big house,



At dawn the central heating moans

a high whine;

wood and plaster kick, knock

and heat turns up a winter wick.


            Is it loneliness?

Not really.


            Disconnected head and heart?





At a café in Kendal

where I drink coffee

Andrew chooses another table,

sits down,

smiles at strangers;

waits to see what happens next.

He loves them, you see.

Mostly, people love him back;

particularly old ones, Sages.

He makes them feel special,

and an encounter

warms the place.


At night, he sleeps

like an angel.

Tuesday, 16 June 2009

There is a love

There is a love that’s only locked

inside my little trouser pocket

and covered by my fist and luck it

never peeps – a shipwreck


lies there snug in the warmth and dark

keeping ancient secrets

behind a leather wallet

quaking as I walk.


Once it did come out to play

in brightness of the daytime

but now not even in a sliver of moonshine

it’s certain, safer, to stay; to stay.

Monday, 15 June 2009

Painting the Edge

of the sea,

a wet crescent of aqua blue,

fizzes up to a pencil line

dropped from a cobalt sky.


In the marine,

streaks of white bubble

like a lady’s hair, floating - but really

air pushed up by moon and water, rock.


Behind, see angled land, grass and stone

and sand and green

corrugated weed and looking down to

boots and hanging ochre hands.


Everything made of water - levelled of course -

a Famous Artist’s watercolour.

Sunday, 14 June 2009


In autumn, shall we walk?


You don’t feel like going, I can tell.

There’s much to do of consequence;

houses, youtube, twitter, email;


it’s warm here, you’re entranced

but Ithaca calls, there’s no choice!


Cut loose,


wave goodbye to neighbours;

say toodle-oo to a setsquare home

and head out onto a narrowing lane


past woods, puddles, rivers,

dappled shade and cows in clover.


No looking back.


Come on, leg it.

We’ll go for a way

along your special trail.


Put down pencil, paper, books

because very soon now, go you must.