Saturday, 14 November 2009


My son has a word; not a word your mind knows;

the word - ‘izzy’.

Mind you, it does feel like you’re special

when he calls you ‘izzy’.

Mind you, he emphasizes and lengthens


Mind you, he means it when he says ‘izzy’

luxuriously, eye to eye.

My son has a new word;

the word ‘izzy’: it means I Love You.

He means it. He wants you to use it. Mind you use ‘izzy’ well.

He really won’t mind.

Friday, 13 November 2009


When I was 36 … Andrew found me;

he sought me out, tracked me down

I didn’t know why (but now I do)

in summer at the top end of town


by self pity.

Into light he came from tunnel

and darkness, violent convulsions,

yes violence and a face ancient

touching, lolling and I softened;


like a baby.

Thursday, 12 November 2009


I wake all of a sudden in the dark.

Sunday morning. Soon I’ll get

to work and put my hands on wood, saw

and glue. I lie blinking into

dusty black and hear outside

rushes of plummeting rain hammering

windows, tiles, freshening surfaces

like when lying half awake

heavy drops drip and splash

meeting and eventually running

downhill into trickle, river, sea.

Mortise and tenon include, uphold

and I join water roaring forwards

back into a dream of night.

Wednesday, 11 November 2009


The trick, it seems, is to sleep like an angel

then ask Mum to go onto Youtube

in the blue dining room where

sun peeps through curtains.

Still in pyjamas, eat brown toast,

surfing for musicals, like Oliver - the boy

who never lied or cheated. On the news

three Down’s children will be terminated today.

Monday, 9 November 2009


One of those things

- the future in a dream.

I sit drinking cappuccino,

dawn rises amber and I

imagine the liquid

all gone.

An hour stretches

from milk to empty cup;

this day, week and year, this life

until my coffee drains

the past into a dream.

One of those things.

Sunday, 8 November 2009


Open a blind and see what we find;

no worries on what might be lurking behind.

Windows’ wide open, nothing large

will barge us on down if we stand steady,

arms out ready, feet on the ground.

Peep round this wall, nothing will fall

if we play at wizards, walking tall,

dazzling and laughing, wholesome and bright,

igniting a fire on a skittering cloud

and dancing abroad with balance and poise.

Any true voice sings along with the bass

when a melody melts in its time and its place;

we sing all together, harmony strong,

and out from beyond a phenomenal birth

a sounding of earth will resonate through.

So you?

Stranger, you stranger, with every click of the clock,

will you stay with me, now

now and and now

until my little song of life is sung?