it is a long time since we saw daybreak so no wonder we think it beautiful when, looking ahead, there it is suddenly: ribbons of gold and rouge spreading behind the hills, slowly unravelling, perfumed, gay, and a soft light touches your face and our memories of a deep, remote, unceasing river i love your […]

at this meditation lesson you pay what you want at the front desk and let the guru make you sit for hour upon unbroken hour with the one object: watch your breath my buttocks hurt my legs go to sleep frustration’s winning out “sir, where’s the peace?” * * the ducted heating coughs out stale […]

I am sitting here and the pale night-lamp, pretending to be day, spills over the desk. Leaning back on its paste-board support is a picture in a frame of Melissa and I, both in our stiff-collar, high school uniform, my hair pulled back in a pony-tail, hers in a short bob framing her face. Ironically […]

Poetry feels sometimes like an expiation And yet with words of the near-past I’d also been building debt Is this all meant to bring us closer to being an animal That is more right than man Never in embarrassment, always knowing what to do Or when I try here to create you Am I really […]

blouse button black thread lock up the alter ego sign repatriation papers with life’s purgatory re-pot the dandelion water the peace-lily push the waste-bins out leave the empty recycling-can fold the week’s laundry reorganise the mind’s drawers call your mother charge the mobile-phone clean the bathroom-mirror love yourself wipe down the pieces of your personality […]

Clarity is rarely expected A relaxed focus A pattern out of Pale constellation Provocative Understanding I would never ask you to Explain it away What astonishes me is our ignorance Of our will to delude ourselves * * Again I realise how reality Confounds our picture gallery (The one who says we could Make one […]

The old letters. A slender pile bound with a raffia string. Where expressions are droll and careful. The quiet discourse. The slant of the night-lamp across the page. I, writing with an exploratory hand. You, answering my movements as nobody else ever had. Where the hours are small, I am at home, the crickets listing […]