STOP the world I want to get off
with you, in a space  
neither left nor right, east or west.
It's time to feel the reaction to all our action,
feel the recoil of our scattergun shot.
And feeling undeserving of sleep
we yearn the stronger to dream.
And in this dream space, and thanking God
we are here to help one another,
in this wood, blundering through the trees,
forced this way b...

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There'll be a torrent of answers
I celebrate the fact
but float no answer here

neither is it reasonable 
to breathe questions
already flooding the airwaves

here in poetry
meditation given over to consideration
we drift in deeper currents

all that is at stake here
the existence or extinction
of societies fragile as coral

meet me where on the sea-level
green grew the rushes...

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If there were one among them that did not
call to the corner of my eye as if
the tiny show of tears provoked
should benefit them some way.

And if there were a darkness or evil 
so profound I could find rest within it
ceasing to see them, awake or asleep 
all the same, as I do.

If a reminder of the robin redbreast
or semblance of a last-gasp squirrel
athirst for the cause of all ...

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    We would like our far descendants
without knowledge of our lives and ways
to understand a little of us after all.
    How we held to the stable virtues
before our footprints once impressing this beach 
were cleansed and lifted as ever.

    It's for those who ride life's driven wave 
to marvel as fortune turns with each dawn.
    Let them return here blessed but exhausted
as the...

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I hear her speak the one language.
Can I find such poetry
to make a true response.
My muddled thoughts and limited wordstock 
I know for what they are.
Hearing my mystic name 
in a continual farewell
I wonder to what purpose.
My desire is to give an answer
in the one language.

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Approaching the small window
horizons expand
attention deepens 
through this porthole 
in a vessel inclined 
just enough to see 
all that was missed before

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"The moon is a penny thrown into the sky"
She confides
"A boon for the most needy passer-by"

"Who threw it there!" and "Why doesn't it fall?"
We children shriek.
(All the more insistent for being so small.)

" I threw it there, a moment ago.
"And it will fall if you say it isn't so"

Kids rush to the window, squeal: "It's still there!"
" Then I shall leave it in your own good car...

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Let's just say we're abandoning science-fiction quests
regarding them all as poor sand-castles
shrinking from the buffetting of any day
let alone the tide they had thought to challenge.

Plain speaking might be best but think
no one seems able to get their ducks in a line
ducks more like scraps of feather and echoes of quack
unable to even trip over a lyrical line or lifeline.

Let'...

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Move on past the Black Horse, take the steps 
reeling right and left up the green shoulder.
You're in the woods best called "the real world".
Magical of course. Moss-carpeted trees
hollowed to join anon their blown over brethren,
upon whose crazy crumbled limbs you ramble.

In fact this green land that dips and swells
is but sleeping giants and dragons and God knows what.
Progress ...

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The old fool folds a bony talon 
jealously around the timeless and universal
when the old fool remembers their value
though the blood of the age surges in the old fool's body
and the scars of the old fool's particular history 
are painfully ever present.
This, for better or worse, is what I do.
I do remember splinters, blisters and nettle stings
but I'm no Seamus Heaney.
I can't bring bac...

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A dream would answer reluctance to sleep
(fearful of never waking)
but you'd have to sleep first...

     Fear of death lives best in the mind
of tormented youngsters,
among all else they must overcome.
     Battling like green blades of spring to emerge 
from illusory dungeons of childhood.

     Them there closer to the end smile and play 
the fool without a care. Youngsters play...

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Via claw-marks of the jets
                   X 
       marks the spot.

                   A 
                spire 
                tries 
      to point the way.

     Smokescreens follow their evolution
like obscuring flags parading by.
Narrowed eyes learn to see.
Cries wrenched from innocent lips 
flash past as lead in the air.
Just sometime evident
stars circle this neighb...

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Captain: Tonight the crew party with the guests.
The man who made the Titanic is aboard
and we celebrate while we can.
Should we journey to a new world of grandeur,
times ahead can think with wonder
how they got where they are
and remember the man who made the Titanic.
How easy could a captain's sleep be 
skating over billowing black sheets,
and only the yellowing thousand watt moon
...

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I

Gathered easily and wholly satisfying
     before the visionary looks about.

Decorous words hang
     upon the branch so
          the creative plunge inwards.

Look about now promising words  
     jangle on every twig in sight.
          All directions gleam the same.

Now the artist's work begins.
     That dread violation of silence.

II

There is a story that leads up to...

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They'll show themselves as birds of paradise
not because they are proud
but because they are fearless
and when they have shown all they can
as birds of paradise
the one behind a screen, still as the dead,
camouflaged birdwatcher, weighted
with every kind of telescopic camera
posing as the one thing unshown
by the birds of paradise
sometime soon must throw off the sheet
and move une...

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This little world recalls a rise, a fall of morning tide.
A hovering snowflake on St. Perpetua's Day.

There is no magic such that
A falling leaf may vanish in mid air.

Remember good fortune if you will
As this little world will remember you.

The least feather can't be lost from the story,
Tell yourself not to sorrow to long.

Every step, every turn of the head
Brings a...

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Blind man's buff: in your own home 
and you could have been anywhere.
Pin the tail on the donkey: again blind as a bat
and how wrong you could be.
And the charades. Charade after charade:
at least you could see but were not allowed to speak.
What a riot, all played simultaneously.
Back then it was taken for granted
we knew our left from our right.
Labour was the working man's party.
...

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Nobody knows the percentage
of the world population
heading for London where 
the streets are paved with gold.

Those who have arrived
have condemned their own homes.
Along darkened alleyways now
they stoop and scrape for their gold.

Any avatar stood on Waterloo bridge
might admire the art of the sunset.
Old Man Thames will turn to blood
after passing through urban gold.

Thos...

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A suggestion of a statue, timeless 
on a pedestal, has released your heart 
-like a leaf from a tree- to voodoo dolls 
dancing in the foreground. Released your heart  
-but your dream is a nightmare-
to pieces of silver you have to eat,
and the lonely wayward miles, combusting.

How the eons feign to move!
It is that your heart may return.
All times are grievous says the poet
for the ol...

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Walking along the roof
       I see a bird

              Shitting freely
                     I observe

All shrieks and a-squawk
       I laugh out loud

             Oh, that withering look!
                     I fall silent now

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When will the blues ever be news?
The ash will remember the fire
before the blues will ever be news.

Look at a president's scandal.
See a neighbourhood cat run wild.
After all could the blues be news?

Say you support this particular cause
whatever support can mean here,
however ash can be said to recall,
however the blues could be news.

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Varied as any flock, these islanders 
are yet never far from one view.

On the horizon
it may be dragons they look out for
and the dull clunk of bells they hear
from where the sun has other business.

Looking out on these changeful waves 
always the same, the same
fascinates the islander
just as the ever evolving curls
of the beloved's shining
shining hair.
And looking out, to t...

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Here one small circle of lamplight
is all the world against the night.
And on this stage breathes a lady
old, in pain, but no way sleepy.
And the photographs in her hand:
different times in a different land.
And call her tears sentimental,
she has them flow, seen as central.
The dark surround is all it seems
-just dark- against the stuff of dreams.

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These poems have a parallel.

Without exception they are written to benefit the reader.
They are family, appearing alone is agony.

They are certain to make sense
the reader is certain to struggle with this.

The privately whispered hopeless prayer.
The celebrated arm of the drowned still outreaching.

One poem pulls the reader into its heart
another flies past mysteriously.

Each is...

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Before sunrise you'll see your breath riding the air.
The Andromeda nebula and yours.
Rivers forever returning under skies forever restless.
Frame the photograph you snap; give it pride of place.
"Long ago, in Utopian times!" You'll say before the end.

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Listen, 
should a mermaid you befriend advise you-
trim your sails for home.
Let the irresistible force 
meet the immovable object.
Never mind who is who, right or wrong;
seagulls aim for both the same.

Let's hope rainbows from teardrops reveal
that power residing in simple things:
your quiet word above the roar,
your face in the aperture.
The seal imprinted on your heart
you'll...

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A tattered grey shawl snaps in the chill gale. 

The widow scowls it is these times.

She hugs the graveyard closer to her heart.

For there is a howl of cold wind,

but it is not these times.

Books fall open when there is no path back.

A lifetime's study fails to show the way.

O, Arrow without target deprived of peace. 

Sustain yourself through an emptiness,

but it is n...

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Time is of the essence.
Running is bad for our knees and driving
bad for the planet but faster 
and faster we have to go.

Once on the same jet plane
we'll converse above the clouds and laughing
skydive together in contact for more 
than a glancing second.

To speak the truth, break the sound barrier,
see eye to eye at the speed of light,
contemplative hearts over and angain
read al...

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Someone, anyone. Not rich or famous
but very, very fortunate.
Awoke somewhere, well, it was a hospital.
And someone, it must have been a doctor
said simply "You're cured!"
The patient, flooded with relief, was unable to speak.
Later a nurse arrived with a bite to eat.
"Congratulations."
The patient smiled and, feeling unworthy
lowered his gaze. Obviously he would have to
offer a pro...

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You think that is the Moon?
That is a pale ghost of the Sun.
You know, of this immersion in silver
how very little is silver, don't you?

In this light we work out our course.
Each on a different planet; 
as though joined at the hip.
Then blazing Sun accuses us again.

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Let's define human beings
as grown up children
playing at falling in love.
Of course you and Jesus are different.
You have such a power in your eye
you keep the lazer beam hooded.
Do people need their limbs loosened,
forgetting for a moment 
how terrible they must have been in a previous life,
falling into a delicious trembling swoon?
Perhaps they do
but not unexpectedly, at a mome...

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Who might I offend trying to stay young forever?
Who do I honour slaying no killers on my land?
Who do I fail speaking the unwelcome words?
And who might I follow when fireflies leave the city?

Who might I need as witness to love?
Who do I fear with my reed-flute silent?
Who do I reach when I fly from my cage?
And who might I offer the answers I find?

This chorus that plans not a r...

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The noise is traffic and it is ceaseless.
Turn back where lies your sleeping angel
enveloped in silence.
Her hand unconsciously entwines with yours.
She is the one to lead you through
olive, myrtle, laurel groves.
You with the narrative; she and her elixir;
when both are lost and mists clear 
you'll find a forever home, 
perched beside bluest sea. Crystal air
upholds gulls a-floatin...

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Sentinel trees in a parade,
human beings find a boundary thus.
Felt to celebrate with folk of ease,
who call them majestic and inspiring.
These same sentinels seem to commiserate
with those brought low, to whom they seem
gloomy and menacing.
Sentinels alive with a niche for every creature
following its dream. And human beings 
follow their exploits with interest. 
Not being i...

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Sunvivid atomlight, whirled around in blue.
Let a body of wisdom accumulate.
And grow, nurtured in each experience;
one unique basketful per unique hand.

Mementos of years, bones after the feast-
collected knowledge to lock in dusty drawers.
But wisdom, as love, will not know itself caught
so think not to break free, all being well.

Sometime, for the sake of good hungering
shall ...

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In these lands, at once familiar and deadly,
natives now for the first time explore peace
having long sought to channel the storms.
These lands, deep and inspiring, 
have been shaped, are still,
by the prevailing wind. 
Having gained at last this small understanding,
natives may choose to benefit where once all was warfare. 
They may view the bones, broken and petrified; 
generations...

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A song made a visit today.
In the yard, children whistled and hummed.
Such was the power, I was transported for a time.
No musician was there to catch the theme,
light as soap-bubbles on the air.

A poem made a visit today.
A rose standing clear of thorny briars.
One I had passed many times; what moves the heart today?
No poet was there who'd memorialise the thought,
simple as a love of ...

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Up before the alarm;
money in the bank.

Close to silence, formless day
concocts some kind of brew.

Something of value,
held in the glare of a star.
How could I lose sight of it?

Door flung open: I am leaving home.

Today's motto rubs me up the wrong way
you can have it if you can pay for it.

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I have a Glass Skull.
You with eyes to see
a busybody bustle about
know that nothing can be hidden.
And how my mystery remains intact.
I have a Glass Skull
or snowdome that's been smacked.
You'll clearly sense combustible ambition
in shows of electric activity but,
for what exactly?
I have a Glass Skull
as documented in high definition,
filmed and followed on-line,
tapped by dete...

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I

With the silver in their hair some have found 
treasure and not through sheer luck.
For my signs long have I peered through windows 
but beyond me through walls they look.
With a breast that harbours surpassing dawns
uncowed by night, sweet for growing rare,
yet familiar as day to these spirits
beyond the thud from my raucous funfair.

II

Today a flock I've come to know vanished.
...

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On finding his fish
the mechanical fisherman
schooled to salute
inclined to dream
the mechanical fisherman
drips from his eyes
looks no further
on finding his fish

On finding his fish
the mechanical fisherman
rooted to the spot
rocketing through ozone
the mechanical fisherman
laughs away his aged scars
recalls his smoothed soul
on finding his fish

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Everything about you is strange. 
That is, interesting for its own sake,
pressing itself upon the whole body 
of your attention and imagination. Do you see 
the shiver move over tall grass, compelling
evidence a love-lorn god pursues his tryst.

Moving like an astronaut on Mars,
a foreign coin in your hand,
anyone might run after you as if
trying to catch a balloon before it floats ...

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While seeing familiar faces on the morning bus
I wonder how they might benefit from my poem
for I'm sure a poem should benefit the reader.

The day will come, as will peace on Earth,
when I'm able to hand out copies 
but at present, I'm the only reader.

I often feel, not only that a poem 
should benefit the reader,  but also
it should be written for that purpose.

Sadly I am the ...

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Of course
You could climb for the apples of a tree
Consumed by fire in 1663
After
The long, long dive from pink Aegean clouds
Ingenious plumage falling around
But
You should run with a scream at these answers
Across that bridge rudely smeared on canvas
Until
Inhabiting the paralysed spider
A businesslike wasp has stung for her larder
You
At last see by your own light the cloaked ...

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If all you can have of Helen Mort are her poems
what do you say? I'm puzzled. 
Do I learn of her or of myself? 

I take the hour's perspiration
gathered into a drip. It tickles me.
I take with gratitude the cooling breeze
that which propels those silver unicorns 
and other fantastic beasts.
For shape-shifting clouds pass
that's a fact. Specific to the day
unless...

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In Celtic knot-work bordering on life
innocent animals tangle with dragons.
In thickening crowds, as far as I can see
it's the mood portrayed in loud tattoos.

It's the lamb torn by the wolf's jaw;
snakes aloft in the eagle's claw.
How many like me would race away at that 
silent bell: a straight line out of the maze.

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Hands up
all those who have an idea
how cities of the future will be.

Cities of the past we know.

Shelters made good
from sheets of corrugated iron and strong plastic. 
Streets runnning alongside
filthy sewerage streams.
Citizens facing such hardships
any kind of crime should be expected.
Some degree of madness is
almost impossible to avoid. 

Connoisseurs of tears
need only...

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There is yet much to see
within the darkness of a tomb,
so much to discover between two atoms.
An awesome universe of consciousness
separates you and I. Discussion continues;
argument, but not agreement.
Fantastic discoveries, proofs, but no agreement.
Insights, epiphanies, revelations. No agreement.
We, not blind to the crisis, see far 
when we close our eyes, imagine
fine times of...

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By the edge of the road
I stopped and sat down,
at the bottom of a mile-long hill.
I mean, it was the height of summer
no shade and my hangover disabling me.
My sweating stumps could get no further.

Why should a brown Austin Allegro
roll to a stop 50 yards ahead?

Perhaps 10 minutes later 
my pulsating plates of meat 
were persuaded to shamble over.
A white-haired man sat eating...

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In your dark house, you should know,
the moths have gathered around a flame.
One by one they'll accept the challenge:
destined to assay closer, and closer.

An unremarkable moth has chanced 
by a window in the wall, by day revealing 
all you could want of the world,
but now sheer and simple as a mirror.

Here he learns more of the flaming wick
than all his brothers combined. 
Fram...

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I hear disturbed air
protest, sharpened iron moving too fast.
The sensible world in apology
lends me all it has. So blessed,
I am thankful, beginning
an elaborate fantasy.
Wielding the blade myself
I am Shiva, the destroyer,
my curfew by nightfall
savagely enforced.
The eyes of tigers still fiercer
crave those remaining proud.
And by the smell of evil
they shall be hunted down,
...

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You could say there's a rune drawn on a leaf
thereafter follows a new season

    No art prospers in the valley
    where eyes meet like rivers.

    Only the tumbling waves 
    have a palette for rainbows, 

    droplets sparkle as facets
    of the rarely won gemstone.

    Only the tumbling, babbling waves
    overwhelm all questions.

    Not for me, nor th...

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There is a time
as good as any
to start afresh
a man
as poor as any
holds a key
killers
blase as any
flip a coin
yon harpist 
blind as any
claws the heart
the poet 
cold as any
lives once again
there is a time
as good as any
to start afresh

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Pebbles in this river-

smooth as skin, every one!

Shall we check further downstream?

No need. These pebbles have been kissing.

Tuesday, kiss. Wednesday, kiss.

Have you no prophecy for next Friday?

Pueblo, these waters swell

with more tears than your own.

Cast your line further now.

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Like nothing
more than an intelligence
my moon, diminished,
pales before the galloping van
of smokeblack horses. 
It's my turn to reach out
as if I could help: I can't help it.
The site of the slaughter,
before too long, will be a sea of corn
like any other. Little beasts peep out 
after the storm. Golden apples
silently swing, growing silver
by dusk. Figures begin to walk
march,...

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Not yet flattened by the gravity of a dark world,
throw yourself into space, invite diverse colours
to assemble around you. You have assumed 
a central position. It may not be the best attitude 
but it will your own.

Mayfly brides are traditionally heard
"Soon there'll be less of me to cuddle."
How could there ever be less! Sweet darlings!
We glean little of our own destinies,
only...

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one's mother had died
another was calling from hell
such inventions they needed for a day off work

one couldn't find a clean toilet cubicle
another could fly like a bird but not land
these were some dreams occupying their nights

one counted magpies and looked for more
another was glued to the news- for the cricket scores
topics worthy of speech

one was a band of housemartins we...

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Today, let our pursuits be anything
but trivial.
Poetry can twist and shout, cajole and flay;
not ours.

This time let it be the small-minded
spirit of self-interest
that is homeless. Should it not be 
the most generous genius
settled at the heart of our craft?

The hour has come
the soul has waited long enough.
We breathe the air 
of Buddha, of Socrates:
Acting accordingly our...

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For every beggar you passed by
you should raise ten gallons of water from the good well

For every minute spent in pampered extravagance
knowing you could but raise a finger to ease another's plight
you should spend a day ploughing the good field

For every act of secretive and shameful violence
that you have added to the mountain of injustice
you should flatten and smooth and mainta...

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Who has strong arms that gather the warm winds,
clever fingers that weave them through your hair?

Where you look
who throws diamonds of sunlight wide across the sea
or where you sit
holds a lace parasol of living leaves above 
just as you may wish?

Whose, the enchanted path you would choose to walk?
And whose, the soft cloud playing pillow for your dream?

Creatures left over fr...

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What- genuinely new under the sun-
is heading this way? 

Born of intuition, born of wonder,
rumours grow, fit to burst.

It is said to be an animal, a relative,
a bird some say, a sparkling unknown 
one-of-a-kind rainbow creature.
Catch it and it must speak they say.
Miss it and... well, our stuttering ways
are not so bad.

But what could it tell us?
What difference would there be f...

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Your writing, drawing I should say, is not
at all bad. You portray, I should say embody,
movement and drama. 
Your knife carves me, but peaceful, in high relief.
You lines become etched on my face as I age.
But why do you take me for a subject?
I feel you laugh at me and curse me.
Your love, I should even say your presence, 
is strange: it could go unnoticed.
Shadow, will you never l...

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I love the silent guitar

Like prophets we can all see a maestro 
pick up the guitar, give his genius free rein

In silence we are
as sure as peace on Earth

This is an optimistic and positive faith
our eyes fill with dewdrops, the music flows

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Halfway up Church Hill truants sat
overlooking the school.
On small grounds passed up big chances.

Lying in the grass among busy bees.
Constriction stamped on freedom's face
or vice versa. Sweets in place of food.

And then the head-down stump home alone. 
The usual way to go, unremarked. 
Punctual as hell, no problem.

Depression attended for those journeys.
And now, as appoint...

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You may not pass with knife turned against self.
This may be my one chance to save you.

The afternoons thrown into a dry well
invisible now, have built a tower
underground like a missile in its bay.

A power you don't remember 
remembers you; turns your knife 
into a key; turns the key within the lock.

The evenings shot into the dark, their aim
truly betrayed with this meeting o...

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With fear and trembling I awoke

My ship, a mediaeval sea-burial, burns.
Illustrated sails are ash to the clouds,
the entire hull whale bones on the sea-bed.

"But you are mistaken." she said
"Look darling, we see the light 
in the crow's nest from here."

With hot tears welled these words I spoke

That is the Moon.

She just smiled and nodded.
Smiled and nodded.

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You realise how many people hate them
when you grow to love the bagpipes

    count all the feet beating a sharp exit
    when the hour demands a fuller bag.

Then let the officious shrink on rails
as sweet tones unveil hills greener than green

    and find grace notes yet inexplicable
    following your fancy deeply in tune.

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Pause at the small lake 
    like a goldeneye indulging chicks.
Born to songs the air conducts through branches.
Beside those perfect ripples  
    beloved of impressionist painters.

Look: amid those reflections of clouds
    wends a walkway over the water.
This pathway is a life-long journey.
And taking in- bathing in- the lake,
    a form of prayer.

Sunlit ...

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She suffers with her dreams.
In the shipwreck, there's a limpet
on the rudder. Holding fast, that's all.
Becoming fluent is painfully slow.
And as normal as split ends.
She suffers with her dreams.

Upright as a queen,
she's all that makes me king.
But lain beyond the grey boundary 
she's prey to envoys from the years,
muttering ballads fraught with discord.
I hold fast. She suffe...

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There is a man in the stocks.
Ostracised, exiled. What you will.
Following dusk I visit and we talk.

There were love poems I was made to see
heartache believing buds by spring
made to open

There is a man in the stocks.
I imagine the torment and wonder
how he survives. I cannot sleep.

I am unsure of much he would say
it is like the irrepressible echoes
of classic texts.

"I ...

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OMG, there goes another one.
Spectators are asked to step back in amazement,
warp necks for one more firework display.
A whizz-bang over before it can really amaze
needs little bravery to turn away from.
People, turn your eyes to heaven thinking
to dive into the infinite 
that has held us all this long, for the stunning
mystery of it. And should a star move into view
what can you do ...

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from your uncharted expanse
birds sing
I have ventured 
to assume their meaning
and as far as the eye can see
I have a mind to people hidden lanes 
with numberless thoughts on each leaf

come from your unread expanse
parachute into my formal garden 
even
appear behind me like an emerging mole
I am reflecting upon your stillness
musing on the foreign tongue

aim at last from you...

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there's the tennis player between points
perfecting conservation of energy

(factory/warehouse operatives 
practise comparable economy)

I know
there's the scream of bodies stretched beyond endurance
roars of victory 
if victory comes
we all know well from every bulletin
but the hero of this tale 
has no facial expression
and no response for the baying crowd
only between rounds
...

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All I have found is a book of poetry-
    for adults. So rare. I overhear
        Scarlatti battle the traffic;
            dust covers every word.

I must find a niche for myself-
shaken by laughter so close to sobbing.

Enclosed in the tightest space-
with the freedom of the cosmos.

I'll give my full attention
from my privileged station.

Ready to absorb and be 
abso...

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A common destiny, burden and shame.

I have been unable to make my visit at the best of times.

Weird shadows in an unfamiliar garden took my attention.

I drank when I could have served, spoke when I should have listened. 

The day of days has been and gone.

Now I whisper, slower; as silence in a hightening gale.

As an unattended statue to those who rage fiercer.

As beautifu...

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Accept the term with good grace
after all, when we make a stand
or sit ever closer together, God knows 
it is not to display our erudition
world-beating talents or mathematical savantism.
No. We paint our portraits in simple words
Rembrandt van Rjin in colourful crayon.
Duty roughened hands grasp good and evil
and light perfumed candles in silver candlesticks
-in our minds. So much s...

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Nearing the zenith all is clear
our leaning tower of Pisa 
ready to crumble and tumble
but we step up into the light

And we celebrate where we are
playing with the giantism
of our mute and intense shadows
well aware they're biding their time

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In the good garden of England 
the sky is always blue, except
as rain begins to thunder down
and lightening must see you through
the good old garden of England 
byways from orchard to meadow lead
each pretty one to their tryst, please- 
no fence rear up where love should grow

And the heart of the garden of England
quite unable to say just how it feels
the mind of the old garden of...

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There we were to see the sights together

tuned to the Abbey gardens, ancient wall 

in bits, resting a while for photographs

on a timeless stage our holding of hands.

And then thrilled by the violence of the rain

finding shelter in the Abbey gatehouse

among others fastened in the shadows 

poor petitioners amazed wh...

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"I think that one must be in love with me"
said portly Earth of dazzling Sun
"Every morning that brazen face appears
and I believe watches me 
all through every day"

"I'm sure this one must be in love with me"
said portly Earth of mysterious Moon
"I've woke to find this shy one 
loom over me as I lay- 
any closer and merge we must"

At the time agreed 
dazzling met mysterious, S...

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I am the eldest and esteem myself 
fit to vie for kingship.
In retrospect I see
the swagger foretell the downfall.
Proudly I reached for the princess's hand
and reach no further in life.

The second brother, never my wing-man, 
always a cur, calculates further.
His moves well planned, his touch a strike
spider like, with one day dreams
in lieu of success
he may settle under a ston...

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Precision instruments of introspection
fall away. Flakes of paint. Failed butterflies. 
Grey-faced boat-sheds return to gestures,
their loose doors an invitation.

All the people we were, their cries,
drowned within their sorry sea.
Who should be the ones to survive
no one would believe.

That fat caterpillar that curls within an ear
tastes the words so hungered for
but sadly fumb...

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I'd play the recorder 

for nightingales

who'd fill the canopy 

and enjoy

And consider the night 

bright with marvels 

until dawn should loiter 

no more

Scars wheals soothed healed

tomorrow save today

here a balm for my wound

only

These beliefs shan't spare me

composing tears

however I give

the flute all my ai...

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For the sake of speaking one of us claimed 
we are more under the thumb now than ever before.
For the sake of argument one of us claimed
the word society now carries 
loathsome connotations about social insects; 
each one of us must live on their own planet.
Quickly making my excuses I slipped away.
Of course I was in a fog, unused to the territory,
not knowing from where the wind mig...

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There was nothing like a ghostly face at the window

but the face of yesterday's child reflected in your own

one note of your song foretold a thousand

a single raindrop fell for the deluge to follow

Whose place I take accepting your testimony I do not know

the greatest spirit can do no more than witness

where a wound is revealed typically a thousand might ...

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A collection of poems is made to be loved.
I trust each one will be loved, by many.
I pass by unmoved until the moment
I feel myself gliding fast across ice,
each breath an exhilerating potion.
What do others find in the odes they memorise?
Assume there's love somewhere hereabouts.
Baffling like the flocks I love that love the sky,
the shoals that love the seas.
I should turn again to t...

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Where once we would double-dig 

the claggy clay with all our might;

our various jackets discarded;

grasping at handles -fate would be fair-

now we walk alongside someone else's fence

as if in need of a guide rail. And after will come 

our lamenting wraiths howling as they must 

their warning for men too well adapted, losing options.

Already whispers ris...

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There's a stand of woods to which I'm drawn
hand on the bark to be sure.
And tinctures right earthy  
now real, now elusive, grow heady
among spires all rooted to the core.

And you want your love to know your love?
Stand here but more than enough.
And swear sweet this love new made
of the grove's inspired clay,
your longings conveyed by the doves.

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