Monday, 26 November 2012

How to live your life. And why.

For what is the point
of bluster and threat?
There are silent whirls:
the mighty and sub-atomic,
huge curves, tiny curls.

Force contained in
gesture and debt.
Earth and ocean
compressed to stillness
by Universal motion.


Smoothly black
the funereal glide
hoves into view.

Somewhere inside
cogs turn, pistons heave,
oil sluices through.

Undertakers sidle.
Silk hats in laps.
Soft engines idle.

You say 'Perhaps
there may be...

Far above and free
of machinations
(the turn of screws,
the thump and slide),
smoke angles with swifts,
scatters into empty sky.

Keys turn, engines fire,
we light our cigarettes.
The anti-matter interface,
stoked ready for the next.

(Written in response to a submission request for poems on a theme of Soul and Machine)

Thursday, 15 November 2012


When you chase
two rabbits
you catch neither,
Confucius declares.

I'd argue it,
but then again,
I may be
splitting hares.

first published at Page & Spine

Monday, 5 November 2012


You lie
ticking to yourself
poor little heart, true deathwatch
in the quiet heat

of this aching house.
Calibrator of my loss,
accountant of beat.

Outside the night blows.
The storm threatens. Now sleeping
safe above the street
I lie