Saturday, 29 November 2008

Poem Ending with a Line from Vong Phaophanit’s ‘All That’s Solid Melts into Air (Karl Marx)’

We each devise a moral map,
charting the breadth of the swollen river
as it wends with the tugs
carting freight through our capital,

whose floodzone rolls to hinterland chalkhills’
downfold, scarp and uplift.
Our hearts have the capacity to remember.

on my brother's shelves
the books I've given him
over the years

Friday, 14 November 2008

on a day the colour
of rolling tobacco

Friday, 7 November 2008

resting on the riverside railings a jackdaw and me

Saturday, 1 November 2008

slow tributary
a water vole's egress
between the rushes

The Woodpecker

By a shot tower and brickwork
remnants of Middlesex gunpowder mills,

a young great spotted woodpecker
leans back in the tops of an osier,

its red crown and lower feathers
catching the last of the Hallowe'en sun.