Waste not a single word
Though syllables scream for release,
Consonants flap to fly and
Vowels seep through cracks

Waste not to want
For nothing to
Finish your perfect
Death poem

Watercolour,
Two tears of rain-

Coppered silk dissolves,
Hanging over time.

If Fuji remains
Tell me when

She is a bubbling crater
Steaming lake, fisher,
Cormorant
And all

On Parkland Pond
Cygnets Echelon.

My day is deep, long

Encompassing
A million feathered years

Below Estuarine mud
The first webbed foot

Shows stone.

Gulls shriek through
Blue/grey sky

Estuary boils mist
Onshore.

Pier obscure.

Hidden-

Only zero and one
Betray my place

Trembling leaves stand out,
Yellow amongst the green-

First to expire in heat,
They tremble and fall
Decondensed,
Brittle dry harbingers

Of an early Autumn,
Chill borne on North
Sea breeze

This sunny Summer morn

My Dancing Girl-

Perhaps the Spring
In our Leap

Has stretched but
My Spirit Soars

With your head
Rested

Upon my shoulder

We are Twinned-
Sub-atomic nucleii

What a Quark

One at the centre of
Creation

One Photon-stretched-
Expanding at pace

Far Away
Twins

Leaping Dolphins

Swimming in
Space

It was Big I killed the
Alter-Ego-

That depressed, repressed
Beaten Down little Boy.

Pushed him over a cliff

Goodbye

(Don't try this at home)

Small dwelling

Flower and ****
Vying for place

Any breath could be
The last-

A sigh of deep
Contentment

Hard, fractal carapace
Protects

Soft underbelly

And cold blood filtered
Through a loving
Mammalian heart

Peony Petals
Expand and drop-

Pink to White

Such Aroma

Such a Sight!

Needles of Yew

Lay a soft bed
Of years
Over a grave-

Green to Brown
To Yellow- a pleasing transition

Echoing

The change
Underground

Emptying night soil
From the bucket

Evoking memory of Romantic
Dinner 'neath sparkling
Chandelier.

How intertwined we are
Prison, Hotel
Body, Soul

Lovers soil and sparkle
Together

Pouring molten metal
Into golden moulds-

counterfeit value

This is how gold
Blinds the eye.

Hoard in a wood-yard
To build a better future-

This is how time
Tricks the mind

Fitful Sleep
Dreams Flit

In and Out-

If Dreams were Real-

How could We Tell?

There is Morning Fog
Sometimes

There is Illumination
After Noon
Sometimes

If Clarity were Constant-

How would We Know?

You and I
Wade knee-deep
In fragrant meadows

Shallow porcelain dish
Survivor of Centuries
Traveller on creaking wooden boat
Shipwrecked and unbroken yet
Barnacled and weeded
Fragility
Sound of a Bell beneath the Ocean

Whales look up, astonished
Decide to beach themselves

Becoming Human,
They will regret the air

100 years
Not enough
To settle into
Wrinkling bag-

No sooner wisdom
Calms the mind

We are found out

And gone

That year caterpillars ate
The Cabbages-

No soup but
A flighty crop

Of White-Winged
Butterflies

No Kintsugi may repair
The Wabi Sabi of
A broken heart

White paint finish
On Georgian stucco
Over red-brick.

Bomb falls at night

Dawn breaks
Tiny flecks Twinkle

Like stars

Absence palpable as
An avocado stone-

Flesh delicious but
Roots are filling a
Far-off Jar-

White filaments lighting
Clear cool water

This language

Already archaic

Sits ageing on

The page-

A youth-like this
Once was-

Stares vacant
Into space

Come, sit
At my right hand

The place of honour

As my write hand

Marks this page

For you

Oh how
The classifying mind

Reclaims-

Renames

The unruliness of being-

Loosens worm with
Incisive *****

For black-bird
To swoop

For the briefest hour
You caught my breath-

My dioxide moistened
Your eyes
Soothing.

For a small moment
Hurly Burly
Slowed-

A headlong rush
To oblivion

Became a Jaunt

Old battered hat
Skin of my skin

Over the years
We have become the same

I see a Pyramid
In your Eyes

It contains Who
I used to Be

each word hangs on
it's own rope


how to help them
intertwine
to lift from dank jungle floor

climb through the canopy

show monkey eyes the
wood amongst the trees

get old

get sick


and die


it's normal

Little leech
Grow fat-

**** bad blood
Between toes

Drop off into
Swamp

Heal the Ancient
Sole

Big foot imprints
whorl of
weathered sole
on sand
rock
and heath.

how well will
we let them
disappear
when reddened sky
falls silent

Drunk as hummingbirds
We flirt around flowers

Water and sky

Take tree
Outline

And shine

The History stills
And settles-

Silt below an
Ancient Pond-

Succour for Reeds

Awaiting the Splash

Of Frog

Face
Soil
Sun
Gold

Created
Uncreated

Born
Unborn

Free

Lone daisy
Defies frost-

Thaw folds

Poem of extinction

This life too lazy
For fame and gain

Beneath thatch both
Legs stretch

Mind idling I take
My ease

Now is the hour
Of Hibernation


Rest grey muzzle soft
Into rotting bole

Living on belly-fat
Of Summer

Snorting Sleep

1
As weeds we
Sprouted through
Rubble

Yearning for
Butterfly
Colour

Screaming at the
Light

2
Cobbles dull as
Uncut diamonds-

Porous brick seeps
Victorian soot and
Rain-

Beneath Peace Street
Railway arch,
Pigeon guano
Slips the slide to
School

3
Smog
Hand unseen across
Childish face-

No place to
Become other than
Monstrous

Sixty years of
Blood
Sweat
Ink

Perhaps today
Something good

Where pencil Pier
Rolls over the Moon

And slides beneath the
Sun.

Timbers shiver and
Return to salt-

Give succour to
Barnacle and ****,

Green as a greeting
To the lovely Dawn

Perhaps a damp sponge
Will wipe night terrors-

Expunge trace of Moon
To slip beneath Sun

Erasing memory, making
Flat a sorry curvature

Of this rough-edged,
Rotating ball.

Trading a violence of
Sapiens

For the calm of
Shimmering Dawn

How little we look.

And yet
No sculpure in stone
Nor canvas daub,

No photographic pixel mash

Can catch the
Soaring beauty,
Vouchsafed to me,

Of You

A scatter of ash

Itch
Scratch

A rash calf-

It took years for
The bark to spread-
Leg-trunk-head

Til roots sank from
Foot soles to
Molten core of iron-

For limbs to sprout from
Eyes-ears-mouth to
Foliate-

For boy to man
To grow-

Begin rustling

To speak or
Scream into the
Howling wind

Underbelly of seabirds
As
White blue grey sky
Scrolls above.

Feathers frolic on
Thermal waves
Unknown to eyes
On Southend pier.

Rusting legs step out to
Sea
Swell and cresting small
Over silted bed

Hull hand-
Rubbed
Hand polished

Too slick still
For slow barnacle.

Bright brass-
Her bell already
Salvaged (stolen)

Before she clapped
A sound