at breakfast
another hotel restaurant
another choice to be made
of mediocre cooked
or bland continental
a fish bowl
of floor to ceiling
panoramic windows
people-watching
strangers passing
insignificantly through
one another's universes
parents desperate
to negotiate the morning
without a scene
suits with shirt and tie
top buttons undone
for now
retiree couples
happy in each others silence
or those lucky ones
who still find words
when alone together
or the curious
solo diners
alone and lost
in their own thoughts
or striving to hide
how they watch
those others
as they go about
their business
of goodness-knows-what
another banquet shared
unbeknownst to all
in attendance

a neighbour
plays saxophone
somewhere down the street
it sounds like
they are at
an open window
practicing scales
bursts of pieces
previously mastered
other segments
yet to be perfected
those standard exercises
again and again
with missed breaths
and off-note *******
building in complexity
but slowed down
beyond recognition
with their concentration
no doubt
seething at times
behind closed doors
as fingers refuse
to obey
not moving fast enough
assuredly enough
it should annoy me
it usually would
this distraction
while I try
to read or write
the stumbling repetition
of practice failing
to make perfect
but today
there is a calming
in the familiarity
of it all

it's five o clock
yes in the morning
birdsong has woken me
an hour and a half
before my alarm
was supposed to
even after another
terrible night's sleep
to-ing and fro-ing
with tossings
and turnings
staring into the blank
of ceiling and wall
not enough comfort
or perhaps too much
on this slumped mattress
to slip deep enough
beyond those initial
stages of slumber
down into REM
i'm surprised to find
i'm not as angry
nor as drained
as i thought i would be
at such premature awakening
i can lie still
untroubled for now
contentedly listening
to the chattering
of these feathered neighbours
an avian symphony
of movements manifold

we each bought
a burrito from
that same van
i would visit back
when i lived there
two pork burritos
one with added
sweet potato
brazenly requested
the other simply
the expected guac
my overconfident request
should have cost more
than I was charged
but the man serving
could not bring himself
to demand the full cost
for "just" a burrito
we sat and ate
on the bank of the river
that i used to
think of as mine
we bit
we chewed
we swallowed
catching up
as napkin-less
salsa-dripping hands
were licked clean
and wiped dry
across the thighs of
already marred jeans

the old wives
say it must be
the left hind foot
of a rabbit
shot with a silver bullet
or not shot at all
simply captured
one way or another
ideally on the grave
of a criminal
the more wicked the person
the more potent the charm
with the foot harvested
while the poor creature
is still alive
it has to be done
in a cemetery
during the night
of a full
or new moon
though others say
it should be
a friday
a rainy friday
friday the thirteenth
if the foot is to become
one of those lucky ones

i have asked but
it remains unclear
if it was planted
purposefully
by somebody
for some reason
unknown to the rest
or merely discarded
within a pile of
offcuts and waste
following a frenzy
of gardening chores
regardless of
whether it was
intended or not
it has taken root
it has bloomed
bright and proud
brilliant cherry red
against dandelion yellow
and uncut-grass green
one solitary red tulip
amongst the weeds

it seems whenever i read
of these monumental
astronomical events
annular or total eclipses
planets in alignment
a radiant of meteors
as grand in magnitude
and meaning
as hyperbole will allow
that i am never able
to truly witness
or fully appreciate
the wonderment
that others have claimed
these spectacles always occur
on the other side of the planet
or at a time of day
that makes the divine insignificant
mundane and barely noticed
despite the significance
assigned in theory
this clamour for
once in a lifetime opportunities
will inevitably be missed
leaving me with
a sense of aimlessness
and distraction
until i read
that experts claim
this occurrence repeats
approximately every
ten or so years

a gentle patter of rain
tapping politely
at the window
not tempestuously
but imposing enough
in its constancy
a passive aggressive reminder
from the heavens
of our ultimate
lack of control
such a minor obstacle
and yet it tips
the scales of
what was planned
or hoped for
to something perhaps
unforeseen
not yet considered
i thought i had
no intention of
leaving the house
but find myself
rolling my eyes
with huff and sigh
cursing the grey
for ruining
that potential

by lunchtime
windscreens glisten with
newly welcomed sunlight
reflected blindingly
from droplets that linger
despite the fresh warmth
carried in the convective air
it no longer appears
to be "coat weather"
though the ground
is still puddled
to squelch or
splash underfoot
perhaps i could venture
outside after all
with a motivation
fuelled by this
latest change
but for all the blue
stretching the sky
there is still that
darkened mass of cloud
hanging heavy in the distance
unable to tell if it has
been weathered already
or is another downpour
yet to come

i would love to
be able to identify
a bird from its call
or the shape of
wide-spread wings
as one flies overhead
in theory
it may seem impressive
but if i were to
successfully distinguish
a chiffchaff from
a willow warbler
based on the patterning
and colour of
its plumage
or the shape
and length of
its tail feathers
i struggle to think
of a single person
who would respond
with more than
an indifferent
mocking or
pandering "oh"

i usually try
to start work
at 09:00
but today
a streak of sun
across the middle
of the floor
was so appealing
i had to lie
stretched out
and splayed
in that pool
of warmth
within seconds
of being down
the dog nosed
at my ear
and slumped
at my side
his chin resting
on my arm
perhaps
seeking closeness
the comfort of
my presence
or maybe
simply protesting
a hint that he wished
to stretch out
where i was lay
as clouds crept
across the sky
to steal our sunlight
he shifted his weight
let out a deep-lunged sigh
but stayed at my side

a man sits
at the bottom
of the steps
not blocking the path
but he cannot be missed
begging alms
from the myriad
who climb and descend
in droves
the cup he holds
is barely weighted
by the meagre amount
he has received
he patiently wishes goodwill
to all who pass
despite their lack of offerings
even though
the majority will ignore
purposefully averting their eyes
or apologetically decline
to part with
any lose change
instead saving their coins
to pay their entry
to marvel at
the gilded interior
of the church
whose teachings include
"love thy neighbour"

from a distance
the three elderly ladies
shuffling through the park
seemed to be struggling
along the uneven path
with knock-kneed
and limping gait
one leant on a cane
while the other leant
on the arm of the third
behind this head-scarved crutch
drags a floral trolley
if not William Morris
a pattern very similar
to Strawberry Thief
the leaves of
a cheese plant
sticking out from
its open-mouthed top
each of the trio
wears a cardigan
wrapped tightly
against this changeable
spring-time breeze
as they pass by
it becomes clear
though their journey
might be harder
than it once was
they will chatter
and cackle
grin and wink
with each step
along the way

rather than check
the forecast
for some reason
i think it enough
to merely
look to the sky
for a cursory
ten or so seconds
to observe the drifting
of weighty clouds
the overwhelming of
any strokes of blue
that might remain
being diminished
by the shifting greys
of approaching rain
before surmising
whether or not
a coat or umbrella
might be needed
at some point
in the coming hours

this bowl can still
be repaired
even if it
seems broken
irredeemably
even if its pieces
have been trodden
underfoot
further ground down
in an effort
to recover those
scattered fragments
as unlikely as
it may be that
these edges can
be jigsawed together
aligned once more
it could simply be
a case of
embracing the cracks
that might remain
filling them
with something
to be marvelled at

it turns out
Mother Nature is
just as indecisive
as the rest of us
it seemed that
she had finished
with her winter
her day-long frosts
and biting winds
no longer the need
to cocoon oneself
in protective layers
when venturing out
for nothing more than
a bottle of milk
of down-stuffed coats
and twice-wrapped scarves
woollen hats
and thermal socks

it felt like
we had moved on
our spring had arrived
just in time
we could enjoy
the brisk early mornings
despite their chill
safe in the knowledge
that the gentle touch
of afternoon warmth
would shortly follow
the biggest setback
to be expected
was an intermittent
morning-to-evening downpour
dampening our anticipation
though only temporarily
of any plans we had made
until the puddles were dry
or had drained away

it may have been
a false start
but i'm loathe to say
we were tricked
or call it
an outright lie
those brightened days
were a welcome change
enjoyed by all
we were simply
carried away by
the primaveral allusions
lulling us enough
to forget the cold
and its significance
catching us unprepared
and exposed
like those delicate flowers
so recently bloomed
buried for now
beneath this weight
of snow

perhaps it is apt
the first pancake
is always
a disappointment
stodgy
anaemic
without that light
crisped perfection
we've come to expect
it is undercooked
typically
as the ideal
frying time
is gauged
incorrectly at first
it will be
plated with
accompanying pleas
for forgiveness
and absolution
but as penance
someone has to
suffer this
pariah's offering
with each mouthful
comes thoughts
of apology
of atonement
of promises
it will be better
next time

i would like
to keep bees
or at least
i like the idea
of keeping bees
to be honest
i know nothing
next to nothing
about all that
it entails
but it seems like
it would be cathartic
although their frenzies
may be calmed
by the smoke
movements must remain
slow and gentle
such fragility
must be tended to
   carefully
   mindfully
almost lovingly
i think i like
the idea of the peace
to be found in
those moments
there is a
shade-dappled spot
at the bottom
of the garden
that would be
the perfect place
for them
where the humming
of the hive
would accompany
the swaying of
the tree's
their gentle whispering
and the quietude
that would settle
beyond

his hands
are firmly wedged
inside pockets
unwilling to risk
exposure to this
frost-coated morning
if he tripped
or slipped
stumbled
fell
even then
he would not rely
on their numbed support
he could not trust
that they would do
what was necessary
if called upon
deep in the sherpa-lined
abyss of his coat
his fingers remain
protected in gloves
clenched and wriggling
with all hopes resting
on a return
   of warmth
   of bloodflow
   of feeling
before he gets home
before central heating
   and chill-blains
turn his frozen tips
into scalding rods
when there is
no use but
to desperately
and ironically wish
that he could not
feel anything
at all

she asked for
a birthday calendar
simplistic in design
quite endearing
nonetheless
to collate
each and every
important date
mark them down
in her neatest
clearest handwriting
she thought that
if she hung it
in pride of place
on the wall
by the kitchen door
her eye would
be drawn to it
each time
she left the room
she would not
forget to send
the appropriate message
of congratulations
and many happy returns
when needed
     or expected;
although
the calendar may
coincidentally
be showing
the correct month
it has remained
on that page
untouched
     ignored or
     unheeded
for the past
eleven months

it showed
an utter disdain
for the conventions
of such an event
that they would
not toe the line
like the others
they proffered
none of the standard
shoulder-dipping
sidestepped shuffles
nor the exuberant
failing of arms
that have come
to be expected
of "good" dancers
those overused staples
that accompany such
predictable song choices
outdated and enjoyed
only ironically
this dance could not
faithfully manifest
their truth

they danced
not for that unnoticed
peripheral audience
but solely
to tell a story
to one another
instead they chased
cavorted and capered
with piggybacks
and fireman's lifts
arms-spread spinning
they became fireworks
their bodies
exploding apart
pulled together
breathlessly
slipping
   and stumbling
without a care
leaping shoelessly
from place to place
from song to song
ending always
in each other's arms

the trouble is
sleep doesn't
ever seem to last
long enough
no matter how many
hours are lost
to its nothingness
discarded willingly
to the vague
and the vacuous
some might say
for dream's sake
but debate remains
around the benefit
relevance or reverence
to be found
in that logic
waking up always
brings with it
a desire for more
for a return to
a form of non-being
where presence
and nullity
have equal sway
to be
and
not to be
ego
     id
        superego
free of interference
from that backwards
rationality
   of consciousness

only two dancers
remain standing
shuffling
   and swaying
under syncopated lights
held by
an unspoken law
an apparently unavoidable
trait of human nature
that forces them
to continue despite
such terrible choices
of song
and persistence
each was merely
a "friend
   of the bride"
moving in different circles
prior to this
their dancefloor meeting
unfortunately
neither can now
abandon the other
to dance alone
to risk being seen
as the cause
for bringing this
near-sacred ritual
to an end
these residual bodies
left with no choice
but to mirror
each movement
match every sidestep
echo every clap
with rhythm
   or without
it will not matter
so long as this
transient solidarity
of misplaced confidence
and forced smiles
continues into
the next song

the brightest star
of that well-known
oft mistaken
constellation
disfigured and disguised
by the shifting
of Rorschach’s clouds
the temporary flair
of an unremarkable
astral body
burning through
the upper atmosphere
forgotten immediately
as it fades
along with
any accompanying wish
the strobing beacon
of wingtip
or undercarriage
marking the distance
needed for safety
moving through turbulence
restlessness and discomfort
watched with
ill-considered envy
in this overcast
night sky
those twinkling lights
will often go
unnoticed or
simply ignored

fireworks
******* fireworks
happy new year then
i suppose

its these winter mornings
where any thought
of greeting
the dawning day
with warm thoughts
hopeful exuberance
and a positive outlook
will quickly be silenced
along with
the birdsong of
that overly optimistic alarm
that melody
so carefully selected
to ease consciousness
into a brightened state
of motivation
of joy
despised within seconds
immediately cut short
and resented for
its mindless persistence

the first excuse
a need for another
ten minutes
of warmth and comfort
to prepare
for the day
for life in general
perhaps
the second
a negotiated concession
that there was
no real reason
to get up
early anyway
finally
uncertain whether
in victory
   or defeat
the alarm will be
cancelled completely
along with the rest
of the day

that initial feeling
of water as
it seeps
through the seams
of a boot
finding cracks
in the leather
supposedly
   waterproofed
against such leaching
of puddles being
drawn in by
a traitorous sock
willing to sacrifice
the fraternity
of dry comfort
that once it held
flooded with irritation
that will be quenched
only with the offering
of an inane
expletive or two
muttered
under breath
carrying the weight
of a week's worth
of frustrations

i arrived
early enough
to be comfortable
in my seat as
the patient and
impatient alike
shuffled the aisle
negotiating the overflow
of flaring elbows
protruding feet
and cumbersome torsos
a waltz of
dismissive apology
their only hope
to find their place
without inconvenience
yet with little interest
in whether they might
inconvenience
other passengers
along the way

watching
as a man
recently evicted
from the seat
he had evidently
not booked
surveys the nearby
empty spaces
his mind churning
an internal gamble
of which one
might promise
the longer period
   of peace
before the rightful
owner arrives
he knows
he will need
to relocate
once more before
his journey's end
at some point
unknown to him
but predetermined
nonetheless
despite this
he settles down
in a seat marked
"reserved"
and closes
his eyes

forgotten are
those bright
autumnal colours
of the freshly fallen
no longer able
to offer
a crisp rustling
with each step
a whisper that
invites child
and adult alike
to kick
   and shuffle
playfully
ignoring the bite
of frost
unwelcomed
by noses
and fingertips

those downbeat leaves
lately of such
seasonal delight
have been rejected
by bough
   and branch
drifting meekly
without protest
or wrenched
from arboreal familiarity
by gusting wind
or gloved hand
turned to mulch
by constant downpours
muddily trodden upon
without second thought
clinging to any
passing boot
trainer or shoe
only to be scraped
and scuffed
on pavement
   or curb
stomped in a puddle
left behind

a flat white cools
far too quickly
for prolonged enjoyment
steaming the window
above the table
where it rests
next to it
my latest trial
of literature
at times
lengthy of word
ponderous
but probing
while others
lesser
   in page number
though not
   in meaning
brief yet pointed
but always
formidable enough
in name
   or title
to impress
a wandering eye

it seems
the blue lights
drift ghostly
past the windows
more often
these days
each occasion
bringing with it
a momentary
fleeting interest
in where
the drama is
currently residing
at who's pillow
might be
tear-stained
through the night
at who's door
fear and anxiety
are being permitted
to step inside
at who's house
has become
a closed film set
waiting to be
stripped of content
until only
walls doors windows
and memories
remain
but
as commercials end
attention returns
once more
to a stronger
more constant
source of
blue light
and all present
are thankful that
at least
the banshees
that wailing of sirens
has been silenced
in time

sometimes
the moon elopes
the night
showing her face
during daylight hours
hanging listlessly
seemingly
without purpose
sisyphean
a ghostly pallor
lingering
at the peripheries
of vista
and vision
impotent
as we go on
with our day
a reminder
haunting us
with second guesses
of that which
we thought resolved
the night before
try as she might
her powers
will wane
in this dominion
of sun
and that which
she felt need
to illuminate
will no longer
be seen

there are times
when the meaning
of a word
is asked
one that
has been read
and regurgitated
used regularly
correctly adopted
as part of
an apparent
well-read
   or pretentious
vocabulary
however upon
being asked
its meaning
there is only
a blank
vacuous
addled
unable to provide
a succinct
or even literate
definition

to save face
to re-establish
the hubris
of this
abashed lexicologist
analogous alternatives
will be offered
oversimplified
synonyms
carrying a little
less gravitas
a layman's explanation
to maintain
position on his
self-congratulatory
podium

there are times
while reading
that rather
than check
the definition
     of a word
a word
which is recognised
but whose true meaning
evades me
rather than
search the illumined
pages of a dictionary
to reveal
the mysteries of
     this vital word
this word
which carries
the entire weight
of interpretation
and comprehension
for the rest
     of the sentence
     of the paragraph
     of the page
instead there is
a striving
to illicit some
understanding
vague or otherwise
from whatever context
can be applied
to those words
that remain
indifferent to
the possibility
that I might
misunderstand
it all

as they
shuffled by
she told her friend
“i always look
forward to this
time of year
when the first
tinge of yellow
touches the leaves
with the contrast
between shade
and sunshine
a comparison
of polar opposites
where a gentle breeze
can chill
or relieve
one making you
appreciate the other
once it has gone”
i couldn’t help
but take note
of her poetic words
as i surveyed
those same trees
glad to see
swaying hues
of green against
shadow-dappled green
feeling fingers
of sunlight
still breaching
filigree tree-shadows
to warm the skin
of passers-by
while overhead
a pastel blue sky
mottled with only
staccato wisps
of gentle stratus
paint the vista
leaving thoughts
of the days to come
when this spectrum
will shift
and these colours
must change

there is no order
the golden ratio is
just coincidence

there is an owl
out there
   somewhere
in the darkness
kept secret
by whispering trees
shrouded
in shadow
by leaf
and cloud
it seems
to have a question
for any
who will listen
politely
but persistently
it inquires
pausing briefly
awaiting
an answer
before asking
again
and again;
whether intended
or not
this interrogation
has infuriated
the old boy
and seemingly
every other canine
in the vicinity

a dusky walk
through the middle
of the park
clear of
the shadows
of branch
and leaf
at its edges
the only light
stretched out
but struggling
from distant
lamp posts
or the
yet more distant
halo of moon
breaching cloud
it is enough
to plot
a route by
but not
with confidence

a leather flapping
overhead
tells tale
of bats
in their erratic
yet assured flight
abhorred
by many
perhaps for
that very reason;
unpredictable
unflinching
not flying
the expected path

i was late
through no fault of my own
at least
that's what i tell myself
just one of those occasions
where try as you might
the universe won't allow you
to leave on time
standing at the threshold
one final pat of pockets
to check i had
all that i needed
looking up
to gauge the need
for coat or umbrella
i witness
an inhumane globule
of avian faeces
viscous and creamy
in colour and consistency
exploding upon the path
two steps ahead of me
i see no sign
of the culprit
hearing only its cacophony
of enjoyment
or maybe disappointment
drifting
into the distance

she said
that i manage
to reduce
the nicest moments
into their
most negative
aspects
my eyes wandered
as she spoke
falling upon
an extravagant
burst of
the sun's rays
exploding through
the rolls
of pearly cloud
colouring the sky
with blooming petals
of pinks
and oranges
haloed by yellows
and creams
a sight
to marvel at
perhaps
but without
the imperfection
of that
darkened shroud
this light
would not
be mixed
into such
artistic palettes
and
the magnificence
of the scene
would go
unnoticed

we heard them talking
about a meteor shower
expected later that night
highly anticipated
set to accompany
the rust red supermoon
that we caught
following us home

lay down upon blankets
a meagre effort
to provide at least
a little comfort
while we witnessed
this astral magnificence
the significanceof which
none of us was certain
childishly imagining
a spectacle from
the dazzling of shooting stars
trailing tails like fireworks
pointing in wonder
appearing briefly
before burning out

instead
we found ourselves staring
up at one of those
countless  spots of white
slowly
unenthusiastically
     drifting across
          the stratosphere
it could be a meteor
maybe just an aeroplane
or simply a twinkling
trick of the light
yet still we watched
without excitement
without direction
without relevance

camping with
the dog
i sit out
eating breakfast
in the early
morning light
a faint whispering
of elements
crosses the field
a gentle touch
at the back of
my neck
before i notice
the slightest
      softest
of drizzles;
a dampened dappling
of pages
the slightest rippling
on the surface
of my morning tea
looking up
the wisps
of cloud
overhead
remain bright
and airy
but a dark horizon
promises brevity
to this

perhaps
that charcoal smudge
of nimbostratus
passed by
during the night
they didn't forecast
any rain
until tomorrow
after all
i am content
ignoring
   the warning signs
enjoying
the dog's snore
the flutter of tent
the dance
of grass
of insect
and of bird
and continuing
without change
while the dog
sleeps
at my side

wading through
the shallows
a dip
in this sea
does not
at first
look
particularly appealing
beneath
the surface is
a microcosmic tempest
of shingle
and sand
dashing
upon toes
upon ankles
upon shins

a tickle
of seaweed
leaves paranoia
burning
where sense
and logic
should reside
suddenly
i'm wondering
where sea snakes
are usually found

tiptoeing
against each swell
to keep shoulders
above water
somebody calls out
   jellyfish
and laughs
clearly
they are not
surrounded
by these
alien forms
drifting
ever closer
leaving me
no option but
to struggle
to remain
statuesque
as they pass
too close
for comfort

when the depth
forces me
to give up
my toehold
of sand
or shell
to tread water
and embrace
the solitude
finally
i will see
how truly clear
the waters
can be

i caught
the midnight sky
winking at me
as i walked
out the front door;
its clouded lid
falling upon
that bright
but waning eye
for the briefest
of moments

it is hard
to know
if this was
a gesture
   of endorsement
a translunary "attaboy"
   of encouragement
to keep walking
this path
less travelled
or an accusatory
reassurance
despite
   the ambivalence
that my secrets
would be kept
by this
ever-watchful
stellar companion

throwing stones
into the lake
i discovered
the dog
likes to chase
the staccato splashes
as the surface
of the water
is broken
with inexpressible joy
pebbles were tossed
individually
and by handfuls
as i watched
the playful bounding
for over
half an hour

unfortunately
i had not spotted
the fisherman
further along
the water's edge
rolling eyes
and shaking head
as wave
after wave
of rippled chaos
disturbed his lure
and line
scaring away
anything
he had hoped
to catch

the lake bed
was uneven
a mosaic
of large rocks
loose
and dancing
under foot
with each
shuffled step
an interchange
of unreliable shallows
and inconsistent depths
he wasn't
particularly keen
only willing
to venture in
up to his chest
reluctant
to advance
if he couldn't
plant paws
firmly
on soil
   or stone
not even
the lure of food
was enough
to tempt him;
though he wanted
his treat
a reward
   for his bravery
the murky water
   the unknown
   the unfamiliar
   the unexpected
was just
too much

pictures from
this new telescope
unveiled
glimpses of
an early universe
in spirals
clusters
and clouds
      of colour
amidst
an ever-changing
luminescent haze
stretched across
the bespeckled
vastness of black;
a cosmic dance
of light
through time
and space
both answering
and posing
countless potentials

even so
it is difficult
not to compare
these images
with what
can be seen
by looking through
a child's kaleidoscope

it seems ridiculous
to me
that
it does not matter
in spite
of what is
clearly
logically
and undeniably
the truth

just because
a mistake
was not
challenged
or
corrected
until now;
should not mean
we are forced
to accept
the hindrance
of this idiocy
and what it means
for
our future

without context
it will
forever
be impossible
   to tell if
your eyes
are red
as a result
of
being upset
laughing
   until you cry
an eyelash
   in your eye
suffering
   from hay fever
or that you
clumsily
poked yourself
in the eye
again
while putting on
your glasses

this same robin
has visited
every day
for the past week
watching
as I work
curiosity
fearlessness
bringing him
closer
and closer
enough for me
to identify
the glowing colour
of his breast
the ruffled feathers
of his crown
and his gentle
inquisitive conversation
as he inspects
the freshly turned soil

i respond
to his chatter
knowing
   not caring
that neither
   understands
      the other;
there is something
in his presence
that outweighs
the need
for answers

there are songs
in the anger
of the waves
upon the rocks
and the tearing
of the wind
through the long grass
in the plotting
of the clouds
gathering low
in the sky
and
in the droplets
whispering
upon the page