'Song From Under The Floorboards'
On Journey, our
Direction is to merely survive.
Some say poets always answer: “like the snow.”
Collect drunken Gods tears in paper bags
& tell the heathens everything falls…..
Like the snow.
Ice Tranquility in the Bend of the Sun
Threading trees through iced breath
Winter’s corpse spreads as
Water in an empty room.
Summer crawls like an orphan-
-age built by her fathers.
Scar rests as empty comma
Ploughed above a turret brow,
Stitched by a nurse reciting verse ~
Mouthed by Somme soldiers in crypt chapters.
It’s a long walk home from A&E
When the street lights appear blurred.
Bonfire of (In)sanities
We were smoking the sound of fire in a poem
Listening to the crackle of insects in the mid-day sun.
We never saw the stars. The sky in Wales was a tide of smoke rolling over us
From the blaze we had started. We are waiting to see the stars.
Last Cup in the Sink
Remembering when she was fish
Swam through washing-up bowl &
Settled in the finest porcelain cup.
Soon bath taps will gush; push her
Soul to the depths and she will wonder.
Zillion zealous zebras
Tried to find myself in abstraction
Only found a circle-square of….fuck all.
Incantation from dullest nation.
In the Beginning was the Womb
The cortege of miscarried are dead to me
Nursery rhymed coupled between
Door-breath and half-light:
Little boy blue had lost his sheep.