Monday, July 25, 2011

Not a Poem About a Fish

A dark red leaf
Falls on my orange shirt
And is blown
Down to the dried-out lawn

There, many dark red leaves
Are snagged by the spiky grass and thistle

A winged insect
Teases pollen from a clover flower
And an ant
Whizzes across the cracks and chasms
Of its giant landscape

And, as often happens,
I am distracted from the poem
That I am trying to compose.

A poem about a fish

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

The Truth

To be honest
I’m happy to be part
Of the lesser design of things

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

New Book on Kindle

For anyone with a Kindle - have published a book in that format. You can see it here. More anon, I dare say!

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Plum Tree

A photo of the tree
Would certainly save this description
A thousand words – at least.
No need to write cherry plum
Or dark red leaves
Or discuss the depth of shadow
In the French afternoon

A film of the tree would say more, of course.
How its leaves shake and shiver and hiss and rustle
In the blustery wind

But only words will find the thousand tiny plums
Hidden in the dark red foliage
And only words can tell you about its relationships:
To the lawn, the house, the stables
To the bugs and birds who live in it
Or visit it
To people, like myself, who sit beneath its shade
Or contemplate its past, or present, or future.
Who use it, maybe, as the inspiration
For a story. Or a poem such as this.

And words can suggest it role
As a handy backdrop for tales of love, or lust, or loss

How, long ago, a young woman,
On a night lit by stars,
Wearing a white nightdress,
Ran beneath the tree’s branches
Like a ghost
And into my young arms.

Friday, July 08, 2011

Schroedinger’s Coffee

Here’s your coffee, love
Said Shroedinger’s mum

He wondered if it was sugared
And decided that
Until he tasted it

It was neither sugared
Nor un-sugared