Wednesday, 27 May 2009

Sometimes the Wheels Fall Off

The last-gasp smidgen of the April sunset
fires up the stained-glass chancel window

as the headline act—a singer/songwriter
and his laid-back band—begins another

blasphemous tune, about a doorstep encounter
with a JW suit, then pulls up, laughing, after

one or two bars because it’s too fuckin’ dark
to see the fretboard of his battered guitar

until the lighting man, Tall Paul, sorts it out,
by kaleidoscoping the sanctuary into night.

Saturday, 23 May 2009

May night
all the shop dummies
unclothed

Sunday, 17 May 2009

over the rumbles
of a cornering tram
the swoop of terns

Friday, 8 May 2009

from the tiles
of a pudding-stone church:
chaffinch song


northern winds
a blackbird tops
the topiary

Wednesday, 6 May 2009

pocking the flintwork
of the ruined priory:
a murder of crows

Friday, 1 May 2009

in the gap between
the track and the old brickwork
of the platform base
spring sunshine settles
on a clump of ragwort
horse chestnut flowers my anecdote going nowhere