Monday, June 27, 2011

Parc Botanique, Tours.

April 2011

The bear pit is empty
Giant slabs of cracked concrete
Litter and weeds

The wallabies say,
Good day, mate.
Good to hear the mother tongue again

I ask the emu,
Sitting on his own, in the wallaby enclosure,
Feathers all shabby and grey,

Don’t you have any friends?
No mate, he says
Only these bloody wallabies

Monday, June 20, 2011

Thirty Five Minute Poem

Thirty five minutes ago
The alarm clock woke me
It was cold
I put on a tee shirt
Went downstairs, made a coffee
Peered through the blind
It was still dark

Half dreams, thoughts, drifting fragments

I watch the clock
It’s five to
I have to get up at eight
The window-fitters arrive at half past

Thirty five minutes to go
The phrase passes by again
And I wonder if there’s a poem there

Probably not

Monday, June 13, 2011

A Tough One

So, you think you’re hard
Said the tortoise
To the rock

The rock
Its own counsel

Thursday, June 09, 2011


As the ball
Hit the bat
The bat
Reflected upon
Its defective

Monday, June 06, 2011

New Look

I have a new eye
Through which you look
As beautiful a being
As I ever beheld