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

Sun rays and lines of light on leaves

Lawn crusted quartz quiet river round ripples

Tripping, dripping

Morning melt steaming stream



Radio Silence

The fast day drawn to standstill

Just tyre tears on an empty road

Just leg waves lapping on the bath tub

Just the overflow draining my volume

And the day dissolves

Before me



A field of hope

Illuminating mist

Ylang ylang and sandalwood

Drip poised grasses in brushstroked arcs

and diamond webs

If I slow down I see particles of fine air

Swirling before me

Holding the moment