Friday, 29 March 2013


Sit in the old white chair, you know, the one with the silver arms 
and the rent in the fabric of the seat. Once white, now turning green. 

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Close my eyes. Give myself over to the sun.

Feels like a miracle that it's here again. Which it is.

Walk down the garden. The lawn saturated with rain.

She's clearing the old grapevine, the strangle of ivy.
Needs my help. So I pull down the severed vines.
Feeling absurdly like Tarzan.

Come inside. The temperature drops.
Know I need to move: throw another log on the fire.
I can see a line of trees behind the house over the road.

That's it, that's all. And that's fine for now.

Saturday, 23 March 2013


The presenter uses the word 'chagrin'.
Describes the oranges in California.
An orchestra performs Peter Grimes.

Heavy traffic. Let loose at 2:30
I feel adrift but old habits die hard:
no desire to slip through the net.

No-one home.
Get out of these damn silly work clothes.

Watch a video clip of a Wilko talking
about his terminal cancer diagnosis:
how it makes him feel euphoric.
Important lesson in this.

Hear the voice of my neighbour,
a gentle, hobbit-like fellow
who lives in his garden.

Acres of space and time ahead of me.
Places to yawn into until I arrive again.

Exactly where I want to be.

Wednesday, 20 March 2013


I don't like to think too much.
But she throws spanners in my works.

Sunday, 17 March 2013

The Startle Artificial

I have heard this called morning
but I say it's still night.

Without the startle of the alarm
the artificial construct they call
going to work

I doubt
the wisdom of being awake,
up and about at such an hour

although, I suppose,
like most things
it brings compensations.
Solitude and silence
being the main ones.

Wednesday, 13 March 2013

The Greatest Ever Moment In British History

By its very existence, Hadrian's Wall caused a military sub-culture to evolve in Europe, ramifications from which remain embedded in the armed services, and further afield, to this day. Contemporary records were made on board smeared with wax and scratched with a wooden stylus. From them the word underpants made its way into the Latin-based languages.

- Rodney Legg, Romans In Britain

Sunday, 10 March 2013

Change To The Plan

You dress for work but it might as well be a funeral 
from the blackness, straightness of your suit
Then the phone rings and it's all off
the phone rings as you pull out of the petrol 
station the price shining in silver
one hand on the wheel the other
clamping the phone to your head 
wondering how you'll change gear
as the car picks up speed
Drive over the bridge 
don't bother looking at the river
the trees black against the sky
rubbish sacks lining the street
telling you it's Thursday

Saturday, 9 March 2013

In A Conspiracy Of Shadows And After Images

In a conspiracy of shadows and after images
a witch finds a place to stand in the corner of the room
The place she chooses is a white wall
wearing her black dress and wrapping of tattered cloak
double take but she's too clever for that
A year ago she cursed a boil to bubble under a tooth
Sent you away to make your own way
The city too close for comfort
The year turns as it is supposed to do
and a closer inspection in the mirror
keeps your face at a distance
discarded chicken bones
bring down the crows
from their chimney homes
while the first breath of snow
finds you disorganised and dreaming of dinner

Saturday, 2 March 2013

Air Show

Pale-green sleeve
of a chewing gum wrapper.

Dad reading the sky like a newspaper.


Morlock Oil

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