St. Mary's Abbey
it seemed
as if the blood of the past
was draining from the walls
through the arches
through the boney fingers
of the trees that closed
in a vignette around the scene
not a voice stirred
aghast stood uncertain
irresistible
the day’s eyes slowly closed
down among the trodden grasses far away
green drapes
thoughts streaming through a window
curtained thoughts drawn back
as a shadow
a light refreshing of time
garnered as the harvest
of every time she thought
that time that time
how she remembers that
it was here all the time
when she was here with him
was that him
the breeze rings
but brings
no answer
in the crook of her arm
the cat stirs in unison
rain
i am sure is saying something
i just can’t catch it
i tried a water butt
to tap into the essence
of it it it
but but but
drip drip drip
is all it said
was it talking about me
the tides are a breath you know
how the understandings flow
but the rain
bloody rain
again
isn’t that what they say
on looking at a mountain lake
the breadth
of a water breath
a sky breath
a mountain breath of
a shore line’s breadth
it was all there
held in a held breath
variations on the theme of pigeons
grey day
a flock of pigeons
leaves the church roof
grey day
a flock of pigeons
returns to the church roof
grey day
a sudden flock of pigeons
left the church roof and
returned
returned
returning a flock of pigeons returned
leaving a flock of pigeons left
grey day
a sudden flock of pigeons
feathers her hair
stuff and no nonsense
let’s rename poetry
let’s call it ‘stuff’
let’s write stuff
let’s let people no longer
analyse it into ubiquity
let’s let it move us
to say
don’t let it stop
doing it’s stuff to us
let’s forget the word poetry
stuff it i say
sun you are a star
the star became a red giant
the poet a dwarf star
a binary pair
they spun many a yarn
across the sky
darkly brightly
daily nightly
they knit many a brow
telescoped many a punch
until the supernova
exploded onto the scene
then the iron became a nib
carbon the inky night sky
and the book ended
