Thursday, 26 July 2012

One day, my boss, the banker

named with alarming accuracy
repeating and terrifying patterns

he became aware of – here, there, this, that
tendency. Along the way we mastered

cooking, toad-in-the-hole, usury, fluff,
sing a song of sixpence, iterative truth:

nodding behind old safety in his hood
and the terror of being rumbled, understood.

Monday, 23 July 2012


We look away at the same sky;
a sky that’s always changing.

I fail to make this world benign,
although we see the same sky

and here we are, alone now,
side-by-side with waving trees
and, in a our time, unerring breeze

is dancing down a blinking street,
like dancing thoughts of you.

And so my deepest choice is trust
- to trust the wind and blue sky
and feel the wind there, deep, away

in little spots of sadness, joy,
that slowly will return, repay:

is that not why we’re here and now;
in wind, in time, today?