Friday, 5 August 2011


sings like - Elvis to the playground,

swinging on a little swing.

‘Danny’ posing in the mirror,

no one else as interesting.

‘Joseph’ rocking round the school hall

in the Christmas show.

Michael Jackson moonwalking,

fluid as a riverflow.

Thank god, he’s not found Bocelli,

sweet heartache;

- sure as eggs are eggs – that would be a smash.

Wednesday, 3 August 2011


I walk on soggy

grass for a mile

to the waterfall

where, each year,

something of the ocean

swims upstream;

jumping out of wicked water,

lusting out of fullness into

grace and air:

settles and spawns

her mother’s moment

for the pull of a life

as I walk.

Monday, 1 August 2011


fruit’s attainable

…by waiting months…longing…

… non existent…present, small…

until up and ripe, tumultuous

and sappy, swollen, rustled, whispered,

waving crowns of treetop.

Worth the wait;

a mystery, round; and found.

Or instant in a supermarket:

hand-out-dosh, unpack


or lifted in a memory:

like clouds through waving leaves,

juice of a mountain, rainbow, star.