I carry a notebook most of the time

the idea, it seemed, to record my impressions

of being and living and all the worlds charms

but it was hijacked and now, instead,

lists the timing and clearance of a CBR

alongside the method for removal of a Zetec

rocker arm

I may be reminded of its primary task

as I stare through the glass, at the spiders posting

poison pen letters to...

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this autumn morning

winter’s aperitif

is served on the rocks

shaken and stirring

come downpour now

unleash your jotting scribe and

cast the showery runes of fables untried

forge scripts along our droughty lanes

of songs for all that yet remain

or wash away those pages brown,

whelm witness to our temporal sway

we’ll listen to the eager eart...

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Some of us are grateful to the NSA. GCHQ and Prism because at least we know somebody is reading what we write

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served by the slice  

this body, cut through in the redesign for a different life,

whistles a frayed remembrance leaving naught but remnants

when falling for the suicidal hiatus of a tethered tale

in these days, of the child’s exultation, sing your song

as a lyrical dog chases damsons and damsels and the first and

furriest flavour the dustiest corpse of trees; dark...

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