Archive for December, 2017

Thursday, December 21st, 2017


It is morning in the funeral parlour
It is night to let’s say Queen’s Pawn 4
Somewhere there is solid space
in a space museum

Wednesday, December 20th, 2017



1. Furniture
2. Money that is not money
3. Towels
4. Why people flee
5. Diametrically opposed opinions
6. Whoever wrote Exodus
7. Honey that is not honey
8. Unacknowledged flowers
9. The excuses we make
10. Beethoven

Tuesday, December 19th, 2017


Foreman Alf didn’t notice my misdemeanours, being too preoccupied with his weft-restraining conundrum, and Madge in the office having not turned in on account of “the flu”.

Monday, December 18th, 2017


OK the mood is somewhat muted –
but these days are filled with
an air that makes breathing a chore

Sunday, December 17th, 2017


Things that today I have forgotten about
but which nevertheless come back to haunt me

Saturday, December 16th, 2017


She was May then.
I opened the door and she wore black.
She held a bottle of red wine.

Friday, December 15th, 2017


We might , as a kind of insurance, ask your Uncle Eddie or if he’s not sober your Auntie George for some of
the glue he or she or they exude from their mysterious glands when the weather that besieges us becomes inclement

Thursday, December 14th, 2017


This plume of smoke from a fire on fire
resolutely refusing to be dowsed by rain or a rain of tears

Wednesday, December 13th, 2017


When all we are able to breathe is cloud
we will be replacing theory with practice.

Tuesday, December 12th, 2017


I imagine us far out at sea watching the shore recede into the distance
and mighty glad of it.