to all of that

loquacious man

you spent so much

time in air

with stories that sailed

on perfumed winds

close to the edge of reason

and frequently beyond

but the fuel you used

high octane stuff

was poison

so when you sucked

you swallowed tainted fuel

and lit a flare

that could only ever do one thing

gutter, stutter or fizzle out

and you reached all three

now you leave

a crater on the moon

one holed sock

and a legend

that could never be.

Day tripper


Day tripper. pic for poem

somewhere else

the sun shines

a person smiles


 so today I am drawn

to over there

where they breath different air


 because this sky frowns

blank and grey and sobbing

I am being robbed


 by a rolling crescendo

of  unruly  water

 that parades noisily on glass


 mocking all the barriers

 like stone, metal, or any canopy

that would forbid it


but still I long

for sunshine

and warm, wet lips


somewhere else

that will harbour me

in moments like this


Avoidance. Pic for poem


The dogs and their owners

smudges on this horizon are

just beyond the range of a call,

an imprecation to obey or

small-talk, that tittle-tattle

of the lonely

as the air they share in a conspiracy

of mounting grief

is just contained in pleasantries


I bear left and implore my dog

to follow suit

lest I am drawn-in to the oblivion

of chatter

for we are all, just, recognizable ciphers

in this space

So I duck between hedges that gape

with tired acceptance of this constant intrusion ( escape)

into another field and the welcome glare


of solitude

Two worlds separated by nothing much

A resentment perhaps. An irritation on the surface

of another, deeper disquiet

but that still and graven distance is like

the comfort of death

when knowing it all means

nothing at all




Web. A pic

A silver line slinks down in a curve

from the side of the house

swaying in the meagre air

and settles on pink flower heads

that are wan against the misty backdrop

A grey shroud blanches

the turning colours of autumn

Then, as I watch, the filament collapses

as it detaches from the wall

Now I see the plant and flower heads it has set free

Tall and proud and smothered in a web of silver threads

that criss-cross the stems

enclosing misty space, inviting flight. Anticipating food.

This outdoor larder is conspicuous to me as the day begins

It is so easy to forget that I am a witness, however fleeting,

of another life. Another set of dreams.

If I am still. If I become a fraction.

I may enter in.

Shock in Awe

Writers pique. Photograph


He spoke to me of grace

and said it was ‘second hand’


I found that hard to understand

when words came so easily


The air he used he said ‘was spent’

just turned and turned around


 like a soft breeze

that could threaten storms


and there I was, as if

in the presence of a prophet


Spell-bound in admiration

for a weaver of thoughts


but he just smiled and said’

‘It’s a wonderful thing’


and left me flailing

in an alphabet. Like a dope.


Carrion. Pic for poem


My thoughts are turning

My face turning

At what I feel is coming

An avalanche from the future


And I shall look at it

With the fear that we all must possess

That deep embedded reflex

Of flight or fright

I am carrion.


The imminence of death as it lurks

Casually assessing its contenders

Is a spectre on the horizon

That eclipses hope and makes the moonlight vague

Is this a premonition?

Am I in the cross-hairs of His cold sight?

Or should I simply surrender to some greater design

because He can raise the stakes with His precocious wit

and out-bid my superstitious posturing at any moment

and bring down a curse upon my vanity

I am carrion.


Relay. Poem pic.


We pull back on the strings

of history

for comfort and to create

and re-create a sense of awe.


We praise the past with our lips

and words that search

for melody in the echoes

that souls leave on beaches and in fields.


Old bones fettered by gravity,

the sacraments,

weeping with impatience

muddle in and out of grace.


Until nothing is left

beyond peace and praise.

The memory embellished

and ready to be passed on.