Intent

The full force
of this moment
presses and flows
like a river banked
by certainty,
by ceremony.

“Cup of tea, love?”
ring of a phone

and to find facts
true,
not posed?

Clashing clouds;
giggles and tears.
What more?

For Andrew

Among many things
thanks for showing
how exciting
a book of pictures
of moments
of memory
can be.

Dear Andrew,

I’d like to tell you
there are moments when
you turn out a voice-sound
like no other.
Almost Fagin in
whine but open like fresh air
and Oliver
innocence
with mocking tone
as if from a
higher consciousness.

Its quality of loving
squirms your brothers and
as for me, I stumble, blush.

Down’s boy moves on

“I have no debt to you,
so time to say ‘so long’;
did we have a dance, a game,
did I fill your heart with song?

“Transient, all is loving
and love’s intense, a zest
that opens up your garden gate
and walks towards the West.”

The Handshake

I reach with my fingers
as far as an arm’s length
out to my neighbour

who’s arm juts out
like a lever, a handshake,
onto mine with a squeeze.

Beyond him there’s vertical
plaster, magenta,
windowless, cold

and outside, birds twitter,
traffic va-vrooming,
Doppler rising.

I get that my neighbour
is friendly
or a vagabond,

maybe a vampire,
an alien
or devil.

Stuff - stuff and nonsense,
he’s human, with eyeballs;
away with my twaddle,
how far can we feel?