Sunday, 15 April 2012


Perhaps I’m being fooled
by the religious wording
and matter
of, at this very thumb,
these, irreligious books

Pooh and Seuss
are too easily
the other monopoly
but what if I turn
to bus timetables
or to you

Friday, 6 April 2012


you taught me the words
I already knew
the public sensations
I had already felt

minimised by your prideful heart
I was the tiny flea with a golden spark
that hides and creeps within your space
your careless, guideless, invisible grace

I studied your nonchalance in photographs
like a betting man prowling the stables
for his horse of choice
to win, to fail

I’ll break it all down for you
through a personalised reading
of your own work and lifestyle

to the stock
through bars
to the vault
only you can dislodge

Sunday, 1 April 2012


half-moon is enough
to submit my senses
twitch my feet back
into hellfire and bat
a spec of brimstone
away from the fore

but our humanity
is never enough to
inherit the mammon
poured into our ears
as we need to know
who or what does tilt
the invisible vessel
and why they lied