Wednesday, July 30, 2014






Drinking cold red wine on a Friday night in August
ready for the leaves
to disappear

after coffee
and
dessert
you are closer to me than anyone

who come after me
with
butcher knives
steering slightly drunk into the breathalyzer 

as police arrive in tight uniforms
woman
tickles doubt
under the rippling leaves












Saturday, July 26, 2014





So wonderfully grim
the train
funnels
in 

sparrows 
twitch 
at shadows

wind and dust
hush 
sideways

taste
and steady you

lift a finger to stingy lips
bruises
beneath the skin

feelings 
we hunger for

close in
on
the search 

for 

the
dining 
car










Wednesday, July 23, 2014







As the sun
comes down on ladders 
to cultivate the daisies
finds a language 
to the sea

you hammer nails
into signposts on the apple tree

introduce the love of money
to my telephone
savour the cheese in the rat trap
dumplings
in the chicken pot

a nice finish
on the burgundy











Wednesday, July 16, 2014





As the sun 
wrinkles sweat from the mountain
cooler heights
stream
over grey rock
tinker with the snow

when tea is enough
when roses tug at failing light
listen closely
the streets you walk
flutter
at the trees









Monday, July 14, 2014





The soft edge of trees
hallowed
between houses
the mystery
of a city’s noise
a splash of morning
without rain
the last of summer light
slipping south

the surly aggressive sun
looks at me
lets in the dark
a tree fort
of childhood enemies

the wine is mellow
the afternoon grows short and chilly
the planet holds
against you
the roundness of logic
climbs down from ladders
your harsh cryptic edge
moves in
with cooler tones
than
I would like









Monday, June 30, 2014






in the wrong country 
for success

at the bar 
with a drink

soft taps against the window 
a motorcycle throbs

unsteady 
at the light

you walk over
with a glass of wine

find 
the fire

inherit
the world















Saturday, June 28, 2014




changes we don't see coming
bewildered raindrops
bellowing
trains
the line clear
ahead

the razor
edge
still crisp

the 
quickest way out
of 
the 
woods

and 
you
always 

now
and 
then