Tuesday, 12 January 2016

52 | week 2 | Walk On

Low Winter Sun.
Everything golden.
Objects hunched, aching.
Shadows lanky; tight shards.

Out from the woods.
Then you reach the pavement --
Iron-hard echoes from shoes to houses.
Four horses.

Skittish, aware, alive. 
More power than the cars
Edging cautiously past.
Your four to their hundreds.

Breath sweet as summer; saddle soap fragrant and
Wet from exertion.
Keep pace beside me.

Iron horse train
Passing near the road,
But beneath you.
Ears twitch; you watch. Walk on.

Bright through the tunnel.
Kaleidoscope shapes move ahead.
Laughter echoes.
Phasing towards me.

I walk to remember.

Wednesday, 6 January 2016

52 | week 1 | Unafraid

Start off
Flying south.
Unravel the last days of the year
And open the new one out
In the sun,
Gathering summer into to my chest.

As I mean to go on.

Weaving then into now.
Reaching out,
I watch swifts stitching there onto here.
Taste Autumn, smell Spring,
Fit to breathe island heat
over fear's nothing frost.

for what each sunset opens.
Unburdened, I'm swift.
With fire in my hands; a match for the task.

I step out
from the shadows.

Sunday, 16 August 2015

warren - for GCW

Rabbit like. At first eyes wide, alert --
Then unfocused.
Ears feel aloft, but not
Catching sounds; 
you come unwound.

Back and forth with
Hair unbraiding.
Thoughts emptying, you're mumbling.
Lights blinding. Limbs twitching to the music you've only just found you were hiding.

Watch him.

He hops.
Hip hop? Not yet.
How high did you say?
Going up.
Stop -
Don't stop. What? I was saying
...I forgot.

Chop chop. 

Lucky foot, you know that you can't easily hop now.
Gone west and eyes dulling,
Wait. Did you..?

I'm sure that I said that line out loud already. 
It's much less than steady while trying
And failing
But trying and floating while all else
Is rushing. The ground
Like a cushion. Can't walk to the kitchen for nothing. For something. 
The tunnel is widening as 
You keep forgetting
And rubbing your foot.
Alice said it was lucky. That time she
Fell down
deep in the hole
In the world where you're laying.

Still laughing.

Saturday, 20 December 2014

milk, no sugar

She had palms like a lanolined handbag,
And a smile like a scratched window pane.
But she could sing carols
Like an earthbound angel.

We used to watch her as she passed our front gate.
Bundled against the cold,
Blowing on blue, painful hands while
Asking for a light if she saw you, then
"Thank you my duck!" And borne away
By the cigarette's Lazarus wings, she walked on.

But her Silent Night could break a statue's heart. Just
To hear her echo on the houses as she passed by,
Gin warm,
Smoke perfumed and
more free than the sky she serenaded,
That brought Christmas to life for me then.

And even now I can't hear tell of a Bleak Midwinter
Without smelling Player's cigarettes,
And waiting to hear the spoon stirring tea, chiming
Like the bells of advent.
Announcing her passing,
Admitting her to all.

19 December 2014

Thursday, 6 November 2014

a certainty

Grass not yet sere, though becoming winter brittle.
A lattice, a net that caught

The flesh, still wet and written with stains.
In violet, too livid for field and yet

Earth-smelling. Loamy.
The scent of dark post-pumpkin evenings.

Edible treasure.
Overlooked, dismissed, downtrodden.
But we know, giving

A name to this earthbound fruit, this
Strange autumnal bounty.

To be savoured and cherished, its season as brief
As the breath of the gatherer.
Bending in frost from sunlight.

Thursday, 30 October 2014


With the simplest 
of movements,
one flame changes
the shape of my shadow.

It's then that I'm reminded
of you.

Saturday, 11 October 2014

become heroes

Stars align.
Potential in repose. Unlikely. More
Foxlike. Briskly bristling.