SAD, never mind, anticipate Spring.


This is the time of year when

Music needs to dig deep

To find us, rap a rope

Around our waists and wind

Us up to the light.


This is the time of year

When summer sounds are

Hollow and clatter round

Like flies scanning for jam

Round  an empty jar.


This is the time of year

When Love’s warmth is

Set in relief against the

Grey, when any ray is welcomed

 Like a hero from the war.


This is the time of year

When something as tiny as a

Crocus bud is all the hope

We need to prove again that

Life springs from mud.

80 Degrees Farenheit


Pain killer, what else can you do?

Lying here on this hot summr night

I’m tingling from limb to limb

Hands swollen, head swollen

Teeth caved in

Nose hanging over like Mount Rushmore

Everything throbbing, hot with the

Pain juice. Head aching, tired of all

This, ready for Love and Life-

If they were here, would this pain

Sit with them?

The aspirin beckons from the drawer

But if I pull the blind on pain

Who’ll guard the view? Who’ll

Know when sun’s up or down?

Who’ll see the daisies in the compost

Heap? Not me, here, inside my

Aspirin room of fake sleep,

Dull rest.


 [Written 18th August 2009]