Poem 104

Escucha My new muse is light in his visits, is late, never calls, smiles his cheek, tells me nothing. So I invent everything. My new muse wears white-soled trainers and a St. Christopher tucked against the tattoo, never seen in full. When the night begins, the muse’s t-shirt smells of clean laundry. My new museContinue reading “Poem 104”

Conscripted

Rain slaps against the windowpane. Wee! Wee! It jests and jeers. Look at our ease of water-dash and drip and fall while you – Haha! – neith’ eight nor sixteen lines have wrought on that page. It’s all for nought, despite your ink-filled fountain pen. Yes, I see the sky makes way its blue forContinue reading “Conscripted”

Philip’s Log: Entries about my moonlit sylph

During the last two months of 2013 I entered a reading glut. It had taken me much of the year to finish the two Orhan Pamuk novel’s Snow (2004) and The Black Book (1994/ 2006). A friend even commented over the summer that perhaps I was deliberately taking my time with Snow because I wasContinue reading “Philip’s Log: Entries about my moonlit sylph”

Operations Meeting, El Dorado

This project allows us a ruler with a bit more flexibility. We are looking for a firm footing with a ruler, fully naked. This will provide a clear way forward – stripped of all his clothing. From January this year, thanks to Johnathan, the ruler has been on a raft. We have been able toContinue reading “Operations Meeting, El Dorado”

To the Valleys

Over the hills in this fulsome of seasons, the rains trigger migration of hartebeests in cravats. With dress suits and readings of love patient, love kind, they sniff over the morning for griddle-pan scones, white-veiled receptions, soft hands at their temples. Ah, all those summers a-toiling they bring back to the valleys as rings inContinue reading “To the Valleys”

Five Consequences of Repeated Actions

This month I once again neglect to pay into a pension, fertilize a good egg at ovulation or further my career. Untoward outcomes will result! In twenty years it will not matter that I didn’t write this poem today. — Not to fear. Come the end of next week, I plan to be on aContinue reading “Five Consequences of Repeated Actions”

Productivity Times Four

It’s been a busy two weeks on the writing front. In addition to preparing two articles, one on the gap year in my twenties and another on overseas work experience in my thirties, I’ve continued to make the regular poetry posts on this blog. Item three is the most exciting. On Tuesday, my second bookContinue reading “Productivity Times Four”

A Bequest of Wonder

Within the confines of a silken sheet, the observers attend upon the temple. Before it returns to ash and dust, they light a votive offering. It is   in a portrait the thumbnail of the painter’s right hand   the sparse arm-hairs of a samurai beset by ghosts   the frog at the woman’s feet,Continue reading “A Bequest of Wonder”

Is it worth it?

Grass grows to an unruly height. It makes the lawn untidy. Restore order, with its low rumble. First it breaks a Saturday lie-in. It leaves clippings to be swept up. Give it a few weeks, once more green blades will jiggle their blue, sun applause. — Over a year ago I was asked for myContinue reading “Is it worth it?”

Every morning, because it’s wonderful to watch

scrumpled dashes dots and lines between the tracks 09:33 2 mins until the train arrives for Kennington via Charing + On the tracks far from my reach the scrumpled ball of paper speaks: I am a poem between the tracks. — I am quite conscientious about dating my scribbles and working notes. It is aContinue reading “Every morning, because it’s wonderful to watch”