Last night before the longest day

Eve of midsummer’s eve

What can you do to

Take the weight out of it

This thing that is fate?


I bear no grudge if

Life’s chosen to let

Me slide down for

A while. I have been


At the bottom of it

Well before. I was unwell

I can do that quite well

In a quiet well, expecting


Noone to drop a rope

Down into my dark, I’m

Stark now in the nakedness

Of hope unfulfilled, I’ll


Hark now to every drip

That drops on my unstroked

Hair, and let it echo up

The hollowness into the


Light at the top that was

Always there and will be

For me at some point in

Time I will see once my


Eyes have grown accustomed

To the dark again and yawn

Wide for fresh air, ready to

Draw breath to revive this year’s Life.

Gas to Liquids


Taken from below

The well of today

Has brought up

A bucket full of

Thirst on a long

Thin string ready

To crack with not

Much weight, Tight



The line’s tug is

Felt from above,

Where the knots

Rub sores on the

Bar of wood

That straddles the

Dead round hole-

Soul drop, below the bar.


The bar is my brain,

Pain is the knot

And the rope

Is my self

Whom I have taught

To expect Nothing. Neither

Bucket life and

But there is more

Rope and more depth

And more pain

And water, too, if

I plunge in again


[4th September 2009]