Idus Martii

(London, the 14th of March, 2012)

She dreamed of purity
Death, a coy child,
Was watching us from behind
Words wonderful,
Loose, rolling, rolling mandarins
Perfumed fruit that
Tasted bitter in my mouth
I could not hear her laughter
For the toll bells’ strident ringing
And please don’t ask – don’t ask who
They were ringing for
We tap-danced on a coffin
She dared me not to look down
But I saw her true face under the paper mask
Beware the Ides of March!
I preached – lunatic prophet of doom
Beware the Ides of March!
But she was the Labyrinth,
The Sacrifice
And the Minotaur

In Mind

(the 19th of February, 2012)

The mind is a child at play
Boundlessly vivacious
Then bored
Throws smaller toys
On the floor – to be swept away
He gestures the loss by opening up a
Circle with both hands,
An invisible container of puzzlement, grief
The entire body is called upon
To pronounce rigor mortis
Uncertain of its age
It will keep asking for a place and a time
It moves on to grander projects
The basic facts of birth and death
Never owned
Swallowed whole
In the arms of the grandmother
Hailing rides at dawn
Mischievous
“Now pretend you are sick
And lay your head on my shoulder”
Or, crushing,
“You should have known better
You’re that much older.”
The huge leap
Required
To recognize one’s face in the mirror
Goes un-noticed
The quiet enterprise of creating a self-story
Un-heard
The maverick testing of wit
Stealing money for sweets
Sneaking away for a swim in the river
Was found out
And crushed.

Pulse

(the 14th of February, 2012)

Attuned to love’s pulse
Days quicken
Nights come round
Suppers of sweet and sour
Fruit picked green and ripe abound
One little seedling nestling in our bed
Caged between arms and legs –
The branches of two arbours intertwined
Locked in rest
Pillow tenderness
For that which is yet to grow
For that which at dawn half a-dream we caress
But will never possess.

Restless

(London, the 12th of January, 2011)

Timed out in this spot
Restless, restless,
This day is a fugitive
That creeps further
Into corners which cannot be filled
With wild patterns and pretty dresses
Moving pictures or strolls in the park
There, between the ironing board and the keyboard
Lies the choice of epitaph
In passing I also touch piano keys, back-door keys
And keys labeled “Poison Cupboard”
A dance within the limits
Of a twenty-four hour enclosure
Choreography with repeating steps

Tide

(By Gub, the 30th of January, 2012)

The rip tide
The autumn fold
The clutching at summer
The fever's cold

Roots entangled
The gape
The yawn
The cavity
Circumference
Of tidal spawn

Flotsam,
Jetsom
Mice and men
The beach combed.

Coxwains
Dead
God rest
the men.

Blunder
On past ripples
Grey
The owl dust
Ochre
The fade
Of day

No heart for hope
Numbskull
Squall
The beach
A desert
For the herd
That suffers

The beckon
The lowing
The cloud
Ducked
Call.

My winter
My cold cold air
Frozen before
Breathe

I fall.

Interview

(the 13th of January, 2012, Sutton and Merton) 

What’s on the other side?
Will you guard Our fears? And if hope is a bird,
Will you let it nest in your back yard?
I sit still. You're asking a Fool.
You're begging a Begger.
So you want to adore
And submit to my whims
To pound me with your need
I'm a robin sitting on a fence
Surviving your winter
Is your longed-for Saviour
Riddled with doubt
And bent?

A New Unfolding

(the 4th of January, 2012,)

Time’s elastic ball stretched before us
It unravelled
We chanted meaningless songs
Bone on bone grew
And youth – a drawn out project
Was built leaping about concrete platforms
And iron bars
There were no limits
We drowned in the world’s boundlessness
Aloof and unchecked
Fearless
On summer days
Forgotten in the playground
At New Year
Midnight strangers set fireworks ablaze
In love’s arms I wished for love’s haze
This night I sit with adults
Licensed in control
To prove it they scuff the hour’s eyeball
Midnight is summoned by convention
A sterile play – tossing around of
Judgements and proclamations
Existence dressed in beige
I'm wearing feathers in my hair
Defiant in my out-of-place youth
A silently aggrieved witness
Of miss-aligned joy and age.