It’s called Spring because it lifts us up to Summer before Winter lets us down

The heaviness has


Whatever made the beach sand pound has 


And is now ebb and flow

In softer

Dapples to the livelier light.


Then the grey torpor 


Sifted through Day’s warm mesh,it


On the bottom of the sea waiting

To be ground

Again by Winter’s deepest tide.

Space Isn’t Personal

Room for me

Room for you

Room for all

Hearth, heart

And space to

Breath, to stretch

To love to

Eat to seed

To sound to

Cry unbound,

To crave, to crash

And reassemble

In the factory that

Makes each

Day new for

Each and every


15th of August is my new birthday

Today Bart’s hospital

Opened its doors

To my head at 7:30 am

To usher in a new

Gamma Life for me.

My scorched brain

Lives again, disarmed

Nose breathes

Teeth sing

Tongue taps

Its roof with pink.

Tonight my soul will

Shake its head till

Every hair winks

Wildly at the moon.

Thank you dear universe.




Day Cycle


Waking up in a world

Of pictures hung

In a line one by

One along the

Four walls you call you.


The thick smell of

Happiness or

Thin, bad dream


Make quick


Between the

Eyes, charging

Up with Day

After Night’s


Take no direction

From the subconscious,

Lurch into Now,

From one real-life

Object to another:

Cup of water,

Alarm-clock phone,

Hair band;


Passed before the

Shower door is closed.

Get out

And back in

Touch with the

Floor, the feet,

The clothes that

Keep the outside

Out and inside in.

After work,

Take clothes off again,


Away the feelings

They’ve seived through

And reveal the

Skin they’ve protected

From looks forked with words.

Sink down in the

Soft down that

Grows under


Diffuse it all

Away and fall

Asleep, let Sun’s

Warm wake fill

All your rooms.


Ode to Now

Sitting at this juncture

In the day, reading

Song in my brain

Feeling blood in my

Lips and warmth

In my veins as

Love courses through

Me, not Romance

But Now, alone,

An island, I am

It, here, sitting, at

One, no

Thought of anywhere

But now and here –

The facts that

Combine to make

My Being be –

Sound, sight, hair,

Teeth, Feet,


In short,

On Life stood a long day

Set up coolly

With meditation

And loud water

Gushing through

Fingers into basin

Heavy Lullaby

Take me over the hill

A round juice-step

Or two, through

The windows of Time

Up the road past

A church burnt out

And shaken by

Bells louder than

Air pounding the aged drum of



Kick me, the meat, now

Hanging low and

Ripe, ready to

Fall with my weight

Of blood,

Resound through

Space. The weight

Of me dropping,

Dead round slab

On the cold floor

Of Day in the

Warm blood of


Short Summary

2 minutes to Say

A day, yes, let’s,

Quick, before it’s

Stopped and the

Flesh collapses

Into sleep.


Say a day somewhere

Far off, not today,

That’s been and

Gone, not worth

Its weight in gold,

So little lost.


Say tomorrow, that

Will be, the healthy

World will wake

Once more, tireless,

Unlike me.


The wheels will spark

And something roll –

A Clown perhaps,

With a pair of sticks,

A ball and a gun.


[7th October]


Tell me Life

Toblerone day

Chunk of bite

Bitten off.

What has stopped

The cool running

Fate and redirected

It somewhat



Is it illness, embedded

Or a viral bug

Caught quick,

Nifty urchin,

Off the Tube?


More to wit,

Can I control it,

Make it go

Stop with a loud




[7th October]

A Day in the Year of an Ox

Yoke heavy

Nostrils singeing

In the Sun,

Glistening with fresh

Snotty sweat,

Black with deep flesh.


Track trodden, soft

And stodgy, bouldered

Thickly, sticky stoned.

Stoic foam it drips

And slips from tongue

To lip and lower,

Down, the rim of hairy

Fur, the hoary jaw,

The bull’s sound-

Piece, it grunts.


Loud it feels that

It  could groan but

No, its eyes are down

And grooves

Cut fissures in

The soul as soil

Is churned and


And churned.


[6th October]