The name had been lodged in memory with no place attached A somewhere you might have had to go if and when you needed to know or prove yourself to another Suddenly there it is and the Courtauld Institute inside it the vast courtyard framed All this was mine! In my childhood as a London …
Category archives: Uncategorized
poem for a peaen
We saw you yesterday Ellesmere GreenCrossing the roadHolding dirty blue jogging slacks up with one handGrey brown jacket too hot for the weather andLooking not at us but where we could not see Then today on Minna RoadIt’s like you’ve taken only one stepAcross the nightThrough morningTo middayHand holding slacksJacket too warmEyes inverted unfurling tomorrow …
A61
A 61 with headphones Driving down the A61 from Sheffield to Chesterfield I turn off Elgar’s Nimrod and I pull into a layby. I leave the car and with the dog on the lead I find a gap in the hedge and descend through an archaeology of cannabis, strata of clay pebbles and plastic bags. …
cow parsley
Parkwood flustered with cow parsley So evidently frail like a mind fog in the trees A scent slightly acrid steams this head
to be
through the trickle of it all through the treacle of it all it just comes to be
bearing…
Damn it I’d forgotten then I read about you and straight back you came tearing my eyes like life thank you Damn them The Dead Bringing so much life To bear
Not Yet
what’s on your mind? I asked. After some thought It’s just… What is it I asked putting my hand on his shoulder… It’s just…When is the end? Not yet I explained and I don’t know when but not now. We talked about wheelchairs and stairlifts and all the other (in)conveniences that were better than the …
The view, tiny fingers, silhouette twigs,
Love you He didn’t say Which made no sense When he knew he might But such risks jeopardise meaning So better knots in the belly They last longer Innards of time
yet to come (to Melee)
It’s a pretty rotten little apple I catch I eat it right down to the core where the flesh is softer where the fresh is flesher And there with the fresh flesh I flesh out this idea that somehow and somewhere you’re not alive at all and you’re not dead either you can’t really die …