S is for Spring

The threat is veiled in

Spring. Sods law that

We should be afflicted

In Nature’s sweetest time.

Our sun is fresh and

Docile now, a young

Child beckoning us

To play with the urgency

Of major chords rousing

The choirs of busy fluting

Starlings to hurry on

With their plans.

Just another pidgeon

Friendly little orange eyes

Hoping for a pocketful of

Crumbs, come come, come

Close, daringly close,

Under the bench, how

Very close to me! How long

Will we two beasts be together.

Little and large, beating in

Our way, a normal scene

In spite of everything and,

Normal thing, he toddles off

Casual, almost flippant, away

Stepping, off, fork by forked

Step, pecking the Spring grass

We just bumped into eachother

The time is flowing by

So many millions of

Chance encounters lost

Who will mourn for them?

Who will attend their

Wake? Wash them lying

Embalmed, trapped in a

Cold room with a low hanging

Ceiling. Where will they go now?

Will they haunt us like feeble

Weeds, growing, clutching at the

Gritty footholds of our Fate?

The world is a war zone

Imagine everyone outside the

House can kill you with one

Breath, the neighbour Julie

Who brought you shortbread

Yesterday, the cash ‘n carry guy

Who sold you those cheaper-

Than-Tescos lemons, the little

Toddler running past you to

Her mother, smiling sweet

And young, they are the enemy

And you are their target.

Eat, Sleep, Work, Repeat

These feel like the end days

Of life. The sun, the moon,

The clouds that move, the

Train that stops at every stop

And then goes back again.

The cyclists in the queue

At the traffic lights, leading

South. How long it feels, this

March to death, this mess of

Locks and wheels and limbs

That we call civilisation. How

Vile the stench of sweating

Plastic and half-eaten sandwiches

Discarded in the wrong section

Of the bin, into general rubbish


What do we do when there
Is no space to breathe?
When our lungs can’t hold 

The water in our eyes
And it comes rushing

Out amongst these
Crocodiles that bite

Us. There’s no such thing
As love, our limbs think, 

As our blood cracks back,
Retreats into our heart,

For home, but the door
Is locked and the ventricles

Glare back, blank
Windows harbouring the

Eternity of Death
That lurks behind

Every breath. Ready
To pounce out like

a cat released to go
Hunting in the bird-

Filled night that
Quacks around us in

A cacophony of quarks
We can’t decipher as

Our hands go numb
With stress and our 

Hips contract around
Our basal strength

As it pours out
Uncontrollably and

Meanwhile where is
The chair? We haven’t 

Sat down for so long
We can’t remember

What rest means.
Be still, remember

It is always there
However far away

It seems, if we
Just stop to reclaim

The space around each breath.

What is it when we play the cello?

What is it when we light that candle in every digit of our left hand that knew no difference between the fingers before we stretched every one with that first song book, those first song-lines, 
A spider’s web stretched out along the page with flies caught on some of the rungs, some with their wings still in tact, some twinned up, some alone with a little speck of dust to confuse us. Twang

Twang they go as we see them in our fingers as we make them bold again in our brush strokes, strong, gentle strong as we throng together the little creatures on the page, back to the music whence they came.

Girl begging on the tube

Every step a struggle
Every word a prayer for
It to stop, every blink

Caked in cheap mascara,
Every thread of jean
Grabbing at hunger aching

In the hips and knees
Under the floating breakers
Washing round the hollows
Of her emptied heart

Quantum Faith

As sure as fire is hot,
Moons move. The thing I am now will

Swap places with another

All is equal at the sun atomic level.
No questioning reality,
Expect it of anything

Time is constant, possibly.
Some stars have made it to our eyes in

An everlasting instant

Ox eyes


Vision trapped behind
Teeth, grinds on whatever ‘s
Beneath, above

Planets spur seasons,
Scoop it up, horned
Halos turn earth 

Seed upon seed for
Darkness to choose who
Will see the dawn.