My lowest ebb, that winter:
Breathing, tasting minus centigrade
I studied the sky's silent score.
I scoured the barren quarter... more »
366 Days Later
if you don't mind.
This is the New World. British Bongduras.
I've got things to do -... more »
7/7: Before And After
The dark young man
with the curls of the Maghreb
is in an altercation
with the ghost... more »
A Country Of The Mind
In late October,
after the sun has gone down,
a range of blue-grey
cloud has been seen in the west:... more »
A Discord Of Yellow
October sun on honey-coloured stone.
Shocked, a blonde fresher
leans over a gargoyle
with milk, and a cheese sandwich.... more »
A Lustrum At Druslyn Road
I woke into memory
a little old man,
not a child in that incline... more »
A Neophyte To Lilith
At copperplate madrasa
I mastered the scalpel
Shipman dipped in vermillion
and suave... more »
A Pair Of Goldcrests
When you are this tiny, death
is a nudge; he, she
in the blink of an iris,
violet to red petals of rain,... more »
A Private View
From underneath I glimpsed her waiting heels
(Third floor at five o'clock) . For seconds flat
I was the ground where ants beheld a queen.... more »
A Squirrel Sextet
What we throw away
is their feast: a slice of bread,... more »
A Walking Sadness
The Euston Road. April. Night.
Of all these London numberless
I love one:
my old shoes pound her name,... more »
Aardvarks On The Moon
As starving sacked their underground
cathedrals, they were salvaged
by a zoo Soyuz.... more »
Abergavenny To Blaenavon
The Coal Board has designs to sell
This mutilated moonscape
Where the great plateau of industry
Crashes into Monmouthshire.... more »
After An Exam
Finished! So has she,
With ages left to go:
We sweep our desks, and chase each other... more »
After The Fall
I was a cherry tree once:
The flowers grow around me now,
Loosestrife and celandine.... more »
Worn gold, fear not fresh plastic.
Each furrow reflects
a superhighway of desire blazed
into my landscape of neurons.... more »
I am a clever enemy.
I am always one step up on you:
when you say two, I am three, and four.
I always have the right excuse,... more »
Four young men in summer term,
we measured days by alcoholic tides
and long liquid evenings
deepening to night.... more »
An Old English Master
Tenniel could have etched
him into my mind: claw nose, half-
crown spectacles and thin lips' dab
turning the page. I hear the chock... more »
An Old Welsh Hill Farmer
Most days he sees nobody.
Then you glint in his radar.
In a flash his eye peregrine-stoops
to the billionth billionth pixel.... more »
Grey. I need hot vervain
for this ague of Englishness;
in an amber womb I lift... more »
Astronomy In Autumn
... more »
At The Hayward Gallery
Gaudy abstracts do nothing for me.
It's that backpack girl, head
between her knees. She must be trying to duck
a seizure, stem an earthquake... more »
Gulls, I thought first; but they don't
skein like the grey-shirt bully-boys,
and these wings, ragged-edged
as sails the morning after Trafalgar... more »
She was dark, gamine, professional.
First time we argued.
The second she apologised
'Was I awful? '... more »