A poem about scales

The flame is a scale held to the light. It flickers in petition. It bids us to reignite some salacity already gutted from our life. red herring — Yes, that last line is akin to a title. I remembered that Debussy does likewise in his Préludes. At the moment I am swimming with the red herrings.Continue reading “A poem about scales”

I don’t work for you (or Modern Frustrations)

I called in once: Please confirm. I called again: No email yet. I came in-store to sign your forms You took the card and swiped it then. I called in once: Please confirm, the booking’s through. Yes, yes, of course. Someone will be in touch. I wait a day, No news, no word. This isContinue reading “I don’t work for you (or Modern Frustrations)”

Solutrean Hypothesis

For a season, transient over the ice-pack, her bundle regarded hope while his averred fealty. Both solicited the dragon’s gate yet overlooked the soft pearl which sustains the breath and pulse of para-reality. — The Solutrean hypothesis proposes that the first people to settle in the North Americas travelled from the landmass now known as Europe. ItContinue reading “Solutrean Hypothesis”

On the way to Westminster

A blast! A work of genius! Was the killer whale that hit sharp at Leicester Square. It swam in from Morden via Bank trawling on the High Street with all the hours in the world provide daffodils at 80p/bunch and such sensational warming relief. 6/6/2013 — A poem for you on this sunny Thursday morning.Continue reading “On the way to Westminster”

Huckleberry Thing

Warning! Deep Water Green weed coats the pond. Catkins tiptoe past the curtain leaves here in the conservation area near the tennis courts. “Should you see anything particularly exciting please tell us about it.,“ requests the London Borough of Camden, Nature Conservation Section. “Well, I didn’t notice much except,” he turns, “You, delightful  thing.” (heContinue reading “Huckleberry Thing”

TUMBLING AFTER

Over here on the hill I try to drop the pail. In the valley you scythe the bending wheat.   When the grain is ground to flour, you will carry it in a sack to my kitchen. There on the table kneaded under the heel of my hand   I’ll remember the autumn, Jack whenContinue reading “TUMBLING AFTER”

PROFESSIONS

There are all these Tonys of the world: Italian, Greek, Portuguese, Lebanese, Eastern European, who own sewing-machine shops, grocery stores, corner cafés and sometimes sell insurance. Anthony, Antonin, Antonio and the more Teutonic, Anton. But Anton was the opera singer after he’d worked for a while on the railway. — Another poem for possible inclusionContinue reading “PROFESSIONS”

I told her

I told her       Because modern boys ought to know the advice given   Hold out until Tuesday. You know you can. No public communication whatsoever. If necessary write it out. But do not send. (Especially, do not press send.) Sit on your hands, girl because you are waiting for move 5 in love chess.Continue reading “I told her”

Don’t Waste Paris on a Broken Heart

A blue sky over Notre Dame Advice for *   Don’t waste Paris on a broken heart next to the Cathedral Notre Dame where yellow-petalled violas squint their purple eyes at you shadowing their beds as you turned: his hands on her, embracing on the Seine.   From April 2012 — Who takes the busContinue reading “Don’t Waste Paris on a Broken Heart”