Wednesday, 31 January 2024

describing the end of it ~ not many will understand

 describing the end of it ~ not many will understand 


the orifices the lacunae the foramina

have all healed or are close to closing

however much prising comprises effort

time is closing time for it is time

its time has come as we knew it would

not looked for or looked at

but can a weir stop a river

can a waterfall climb back up


none can it can’t 


the damn door has slammed shut 

the key is outside of the outside of warmth

and no amount of asking will break ice

nothing will melt the hard icicle

which will break the foundations of the palisade 

at the boundary state of two hearts 


don’t you yell no at me

are you here

can you feel the recoil 


spare me the show-ground caricature

the penny-slotted haw haw dummy

this would be serious if it were not time’s fingerprint 

the dead all died this way

it is the keystone in the scree of time

and the stones are so so cold


oh that is wasn’t 

but it is

it has started


and that’s the end of it


never will the length of an ache be known

night falls

 night falls


the candle has gone out

the books have fallen over

the fire has gone out

it is snowing again

indecision decides

on the creak of bones

on the creak of stairs

a draught of ghost

a stir of curtains

the clock lingers

over the chime of twelve

thrown back

a cold dream awaits

in a cobweb of corner

a sinking


Tuesday, 30 January 2024

there is but one way

 there is but one way


there is but one way

and it is denied to me


where now 

 isn’t asked

for there is no answer 


well there is an answer

it is 

there is but one way


the answer is not denied to me

but the one way is


there is no other way to look at it


we stepped off or out

now we cannot get back on

or back in


it is over

and it is so sad

it is so so sad 

Monday, 29 January 2024

scuffed

 scuffed 


always brown shoes

tiny ribbons of leather lifted

the underside of shine showing


wait ‘til i get home

nags in one ear’s mind


cuffed around the ear’ole

swings the rhyme

no reason to rush


get some dirt stuff to hide the scuff

chuffed with that ruse


who could refuse


 mum?

sublingual

 sublingual 


stirring beneath the surface

a string of words shape-changes

understand that misunderstanding

is a rickety pier to a departed boat

back is a long walk

here a long wait for

another moon soon

monsoon sits in reflection in

how the splashes refresh the lexicon

of a misunderstanding

Wednesday, 24 January 2024

on looking at a photograph by jon pountney

 on looking at a photograph by jon pountney 


the erosion of light

in a landscape of sand

beyond a seascape of wind

the shutters are hunkered 

a film of an impression

is framed by succession

tomorrow’s configuration 

bequeathed by today

stand fast 

be sure

Sunday, 21 January 2024

after the bombing on my TV screen

 after the bombing on my TV screen 


have you seen the pictures

after the bombs grey dust

their tears fossilised 

vesuvius blood congealed

children with moon eyes

black hole pleading


we are all pleading 

but all we get is grey dust

grey dust grey dust

it is settled

but it has not


photobombing no smiles

oh come on come on

give me a grimace


here look in my mirror

nothing

oh no

i forgot 🙏

Saturday, 20 January 2024

black birds

 black birds


these latter days

how our trepidation rests

on the past’s staples

illustrations in children’s books

the sun on those jackdaws

the time when the day’s mysteries all ended well


now the crows are subsumed by the black skies

yet hope never dies


they say


it has

Friday, 19 January 2024

metaphors

 metaphors 


the future 

there is only one way in

the way we came out 

in a previous past


the pillars guarding


the river in the jungle

under the nest

below the two mountains

under the moon’s smile 


the dome of venus 


the musk ox

roughly calling

down heaven’s scent

as eventide flows


the red bridge


has been crossed

in the pagoda the sun sets

the night grows 

tomorrow is tomorrow


the gate is closed


in the walled garden

the herbaceous border

is full of next year’s blooms


sitting on a seat

it all seems so perfect


we met for a chat and things