Thursday, 26 July 2012
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?