This lack of
Professional identity.
wakes me too soon,
With the dawn moon.

The building tones on a single stone note,
Like blood through ears.
Overlooked, but for the silence
Of time unbooked.

I go stumbling
into a different fame.
Where smaller applause lulls me,
Like crumbling brickwork,
The flashing indented,
Re-invenited,
Like ancient sea rocks,
Soft to the shells of clinging creatures
And the feathers of gulls.

Opposite you at a table
Is a wrong place to be.
I would rather sit by you side,
Where I can hide.

With my back against the wall
Is better
Feeling solidity,
Less vulnerability.

When we are facing
A shyness arises.
Complicated
The past replicated.

My Fathers table,
Long ago
When to speak?
To young to know.

Unwanted Shelves


When I fall down, 

Orphaned between two safe places,

Don't throw me a rope.

Watch me fall through safe space gently,

So I come back full grown.


When I rant,

Frantic about loss and death,

Hold back, wait

Let me ask you straight

For what I need.


If I leave your home

Like a frantic infant,

Dont put up shelves for me.

Or a child, not a woman will move in.

A fieldfare visited your garden today,
The familiar blackbirds were chased away
They clung to home hedgrows, flew back and forth
Like me,  your garden is their true North

I worry, is it a climate change sign?..and you say,
Is it a problem? Should we shoo it away?
We decide to let nature do it her way,
To not intervene on this beautiful day.

The next morning I see that peace one again reigns.
The blackbirds are back in the bush by the lane.
The fieldfare has ceased terratorial fight
And the usual doves
Take their usual flight

If I let go
Would you feed me?
Goddess of love,
Would you run in my veins
Intra-Venusly?

The clouds are always wild
Wherever we are
A tree grows
Despite damaged boughs.
Lime green electric cars
Give us hope in this town.
And love, with the rain,
Comes down.

A fox was lying
In the middle of our street.
I thought she was dead,
She was asleep.

It was dawn - just past
No-one around.
She, regardless of tarmac
Sleeping sound.

Regardless of the A-Z
Curled up tight.
Golden and well fed.

Stirring now her eyes meet mine.
We live on the same street,
We are here, at the same time.