Things you do with things

I am preparing this blog on the day of the autumn equinox 2021. At 7am-ish, the big, white moon was still in the sky already blue with morning light. I took a moment to log the scene in my poet’s files: the sun had risen in the East, on the far side of my loft,

Another correct map

From the tube station, exit left to the High Road. Pass the fruit and veg stand. They are already selling daffodils and the asparagus looks fresh. Turn up the High Road, cross, and cross, to where the bicycles stand. Stop. Turn ahead. Wait for a break In traffic. (I have seen people and cyclists hit.)

A correct map of 29 Columbine Road

would include the corner honeysuckle hedge and two houses with high walls. Not ours, at first. When did it change? A pink hibiscus in the corner bed is where the hiding-place might be. Two white-yellow oleanders each side of the gate, their seeping white sap not safe. The wet path, too, when it rains the

Bump in the road

Normally reliable suffered a rare failure, taking over on the second day Before grinding to a halt. We’ve experienced an anomaly which made shutdown a precautionary measure. It brought a premature end. It’s crazy: The media and everything. When I was in high school, as part of an English literature exam we were given a

Now

In a week, everything has changed. Now the sun is out, the sky is blue. The seasons have made a turn. — Today I am reminded of a much loved poem look – really look that was inspired by an evocative interview with an elderly gentleman about his balcony garden in the Barbican (London). The return

The good news is

The wet streets open for furtive foxes alleys for cats swaying branches for turtledoves coo-cooing in the rain. Fewer people will be out. 03/05/2020 — An apt poem from the back catalogue to follow a wet, May weekend. It felt like it rained for two days solid, but that is not true. I went out

It is May, and livelihood is not a golden beast

I do wonder how one of my ancestors, who lived a life centred around tending her cattle, may see my screen-filled days. It would probably baffle her as to how what I do is work.* It was from such a wondering that I imagined the scene in Listen to me, you golden beauty. This poem

They’re purple but blue better rhymes

They’re purplebut blue better rhymes The hyacinths nosing uswith their blooming scent.Us – the other houseplants,the fridge, the drying linenon the clotheshorse,the competing scented candles.The bold blue hyacinthsexude regardlessand bloom out of their pot. 01/04/2018 — The fridge is humming this morning as I sit at my table and prepare this post. I woke before

With

With is not a wordto end a sentence,or so they taught usat school. With is not correctwhen it is usedcome withwent withcame withwas with,this withering wordthat withoutcannot exist.Let’s go withwithin, wherewithal,forthwith, notwithstanding. —‘Creative writing rules’ from my school days still to echo in my head. The teachers’ warnings against starting a sentence with ‘and’ or

Airtime will be of little use

What is it even all for? When the End Times come the airtime and savings will be of little use. Every day we lived cost someone something. At some times it was money that cost us. We paid our rent, our food, our taxes, clothes. The leasehold of our lives runs by not to be