No extant postman's deliveries
No morning call blackbird
Sodden blankets blown on the vetch
No conveying telephone poles
No excitable cats eyes
The world has ceased
No sight No Sound

When you look out the window
sparrows fly to the ground
I'm walking the thread from past centuries

I want to haunt Sir Walter Raleigh
make him plough potato fields
and partake in the tobacco

I want to confiscate all the assaigis from the Zulus
turn their weapons into plough shears
and grow them maize in jubilant fields
and partake in Valhalla on weekends

Have you ever kept a scrapbook?
silver slippers dangling in the sun
or have you ever seen that golden knowing

your memories could be temporal keepings,
that collage was only yesterday's decision

Those stet pictures are only a cellotape preservation away
Their meanings have been prolonged

Submerge yourself with sorrow
make every wish aloft,
cease the leaves of lead.
Soon they will be unenvied by them all,
bream like the sullied.

Grief as sure as a fired gun.
A house without windows,
and when the door opens
they glisten of earthen ware
within a cold summer murmur,
words are all the same
a tapestry for the unfulfilled
and God is weary of the rain

Autumn give me your mists
and your warm soil,
squirrel pledge your kernels
of deciduous brown,
soon tall shadows
ply their density,
whilst the arcane wind is hazy,
as it soft-pedals on the meadowlands,
time picks the gourds of Autumn.

Denizens and Harlequins doff their hats
in the bright morning light.
A lady plays the harpsichord,
where now the brambles grow.
Wild peacocks parade under the velvet lawn.
The World unchanged you said

A grass snake slithers where lovers lay,
but who remembers their story.
Impressions come and go
in the cold light of day
oh to gain a rainbow's end.

Its all my body needs
growing old,
going bald and with
Elevated Liver Enzymes
Like an old soldier
I picked up analog photography
and took pictures of the trees and landscapes
which brought joy to my soul


I have been occasionally offered seats on the bus
and for brisk walks always come last

I have a croissant and flat white each morning
but find the cafe too popular now
and vicariously listen to 70s music
as if I were someone else