At the bar

 

 

My old bones in the morning ache

like cogs and wheels accumulating

rust from a cloying atmosphere.

Decrepitude. It mocks.

But I sense in this calling of time

a humour that goes with the warning

so I can languish in the arrested zone

and take stock

by starring in some delicious dreams

so real that heaven has surely come

and wrapped me in a welcome blanket.

So here, between the light and dark,

the mild and bitters,

I am a novice.

Ready to go lightly and laugh

at the tolling of last orders.

Ladies and Gentlemen. Time Please.

A night at the theatre

A night at the theatre.jpg

I  veered through narrow streets

At night in Piccadilly and Soho

In ramshackle pursuit of a sea captain

While under my arm I struggled to carry,

a mattress

And all the time I knew it was absurd

But I kept up a dialogue with him

Remonstrating against him and his crew

How he had parked his ship

Too close to my car

And blocked me in

Awake. I am left with the residue

Of confusion

Amazed at what goes on inside my head

When the day shift goes off to play

And all manner of characters move in

To the theatre of my invention

Bristling with malevolent energy

To prick my pride

And expose my fragile hold on reality