Friday, 7 October 2011


Look, sometimes it sings
and sometimes moans.
It write itself through
effort and splurge
from healing dreams.

Sleeping allows dreaming
and sometimes, but sometimes,
we catch a dream in rhythm
- not making it necessary –
but crackling and interesting

because it’s truly sad
to meet people walking
vacantly through an empty
wilderness – sighing,
reminding of ourselves

and, in all the words, one
authentic line might catch
a heart in ways not
logical or thought through.
When it works, that’s the work:

like, one letter could momentarily
turn this world to another
fractionally more unstable
but nascent and waving.
Please come along, it’s your time.

Tuesday, 4 October 2011


Good morning sir, how are you?
Put your baggage on the conveyor
- let’s see what shows up on my camera;
the load you’re taking through.

Oh yes it stormed last night
- chickens came home early to roost;
hang on there a mo sir, no rush
to alight. Only angels take our flight.

Sunday, 2 October 2011


Gratify me instantly,
I might – or might not – pay:

joy is on my shopping list,
no anger, sadness, fear.

Grin and grin as minutes, hours,
turn to shadow years;

tomorrow now, tomorrow for
- lopsided smiles – and tears.