Pink foil outlasts the crumpled Chrysanthemums

On the corner of a red brick bridge

Fading like printed photos in the sun

Garage flowers, in crunchy cellophane

Blooming by the roadside

Shrunken balloons, scattered and slumped

Like the shell of a burnt out taxi

A box without sides

Leaking smoked memories

Like rainbows of oil


A periodic table of dark varnished wood

Holds racks of ridged brown bottles

Releasing time streams from cupboards of fume

and florets of sweeping cilia.

From the Islets of Langherhans

Flowing down the duodenum

to a Golgi apparatus apportioning constants

from Planck to Avogadro


Nucleic acid.



begins like Stevensons rocket

with bubbling tanks and valent ionics

The Medulla oblongata and Halogens

bonding noble gases to hydrogens

Bunsen burners leaking squeaky pops

dusting chalkboards and glassware

A relative atomic mess

on a periodic table top.




Like a stone ballerina,

Stands the lightness of centuries

With roots in ranges and valleys

draining an ocean of sanguine leaves

Sieving time with paper fingers

in submission to winds

A companion, holding firm on rigid rock

A restless monument in the maelstrom

A simple great mass

Exuding existence


The full moon over Blackheath dusk

is a hole

Cut through to daylight

Reflecting tweed and steam and an old mans ears

on the summit of my young London years.

A perfect waiting window above the suburbs

Following but not moving

Watching without eyes

In Grandma’s comet catching skies

A monastic bell clear through thick mountain mist

Hillsides in layers emerging

A whale rears through the surf surge sunset

Aeroplanes and cranes crowding veiled light in the siren strewn city.

When bare trees mark horizons

Will I remember sky smeared peach wheat fields?

Disassemble (breakdown)

Under wet rain of plane

Darkness is not coming

Just dusk in a long slow loop

Bird song broken to notes

Between rain drops, on every surface around me

one by one, note by note

falling slowly in to the darkness

Where sky becomes day and the ground night


The definition of new leaves

Swarm a bright light sky of night

To gather the ground up

and darkness down


High Pressure

Solid, heavy and hard

Strong red Rhododendrons

Stupa smoked cypress

Mountainous thunders crash

Lighting up the snowfield

Pressing in

Heavy and warm


Hundreds of birds swirling and fat

Arrowheads of columbine

Pitching and curling

Boats bobbing on the air like a thought never landed

One that got away

To flap and battle winter winds

And plummet with the current


A lone swan

hoom, hoom ,hoom

So low I can see it’s chest heaving with every pull against gravity


This evening I see the road lit living rooms of empty souls

Filled with terror

Like the view of a dream through windows, from the outside


Is this the real life


Without the Great Tit calls with seesaw clarity

succeeding a winter sheet, that has hung lenses from arching rose stems

That show a world upside-down


Mangled silence

Tuning blackness in flat white space

Sky smashing savage savanna simians

Pushing to touch

A solid dark void

Throbbing with streams of silver

And splashing colour

Revolving rivers

Reflecting living landscapes of time