In the case of
minor poet versus hangover
I find in favour of hangover

minor poet shall cover costs
with ill thought words
and petty half rhymes
and pay a fine of couplets
and regular metre
like proper poems

may god have mercy on your headache

Thoughts gather and pool
and the weight of wet clothing
sits heavier

a moment slowed,
where falling rain
mutes some senses,
nudges others

catching melancholic glances
puddled and ponded
can spark reflection,
but not at depth

set a course back home
to hang leaden jackets
and wait

You fed the words to me
slowly at first
easily digested syllables
that helped me navigate
a knee-high world

as a gift,
it’s not immediately apparent
how unlocking sounds
that name the nameless
saves us

but with time,
joy and adversity
the truth of our voice
shines through

to abandon words
is to lose one more grip
so
where you can

keep talking

Walking
like the hardest game
of hide and seek
I’ve ever played

On the whole,
I love my fellow man
but the walk was the thing
away
that kept the humours balanced

So if I know you
and our paths cross out
don’t be offended if I doff
and move on

Unless you are a bumblebee
or the trill of a spring visitor
you aren’t what I’m looking for,
for now

Stop dropping off fledglings
like I can just ignore
something that is not yet grown
and expected to start functioning
alone!

Last year,
you cocky redbreasts thought
that three could bob happily
in the construction site
and thankfully I found no bodies
or feather puffs

This year,
that cheeky blackbird
who happily stalks the lawn
(though moss pile is more accurate)
has dropped bright and happy chicks
in the pell-mell mix of my
****** horticulture

And don’t get me started on the pigeons!

The cats round here,
like everywhere
are at best loveable rogues
with claws on fingers
and toes that like to ****
for spits and giggles

In these times
I turn to nature to save me
but you crank my anxiety
like the ***** grinder’s
forbidden monkey

Gimme a break, please?

Can you see how much
we need each other?!

All this “I am a rock
I am an island”
solipsistic claptrap
exposed
cos we need Joan and John
at the supermarket
and the folks at A&E
and the techies
streaming lifelines
while we figure how to be

Now, behind our keyboards
we might not be warriors,
but worriers who realise
how close we are to crashing

and yeah, some **** cash in
but let’s not forget
so when the panic lifts
we figure novel penance
and say our goodbyes

So hugs are currently virtual,
but our care for once
is real

Maybe that’s the virus deal

Maybe we’re done with
u ok ***?
so when we re-emerge
we can see clearly
**** sapiens
are one species
and switch on to each other,
sisters and brothers alike

Being nice is for life

I walked in grey today
intent on letting the scale
of the problem spiral

I sat on an illicit log
and allowed the panic and sorrow in
to grip my throat
fold me inwards
and paint the worst case scenario

but the day wouldn’t let me sink,
my river companion lazily waved,
sinuous fish flowing through,
two green blurs of woodpeckers
tickled me to lift my head again

The crowning azure flash
of the kingfisher
shocked a grin,
unfolded
and I was back to the dizzying
ups and downs of everything