Zoom
In to my face.
Closer.
See the colours on my skin
The mingled hues so diverse that form the tone of my complexion
From a distance.
My complexities are neutralised by the distance from which they are viewed.
Zoom in
Closer.
See the fine pores and pale hairs
That lie on the surface of the ***** that is
Skin.
Just so today
And tomorrow
Metamorphosised by new cells that multiply and those that die.
Zoom in
Closer yet
And that surface now
Is unrecognisable
That picture now
A poster
One hundred feet in height and paper thin.
A surface with no depth.
Walk through it
To the night beyond
With all its stars
The ones you see and strain to see and those beyond
And know who
And what
We are.

My road runs parallel
To the main roadand the sea,
The railway line and the canal.
I am becalmed within the flow
In a four layered sandwich seasoned
By the sound of distant traffic and the train's roar.

The birdsong in my garden is the clearest note;
District
Unflustered by the further sounds.
The birds take centre stage and make their exits and entrances from the wings
Of my neighbours' gardens.

The drone of a holiday flight
The muted murmurings of pedestrian chat retreating,
The click of an iron gate
Complete the orchestra
And all is harmony.

Heart
A heat,
The hearth, the earth.
The beat, the throb, the pulse, the purring engine
Deep within.
The depth, the soul, the core, the strength, the sinew.
The link, the chain, the tie,
The common thread.

Buried deep and barnacled with age or pain , but pulsating still.
Or worn upon the sleeve and open to the elements.
A warm heart giving
Heat, glowing for all
To  share its glow
And swelling in the reflected light of others' glimmer.

A cold heart
Buried deep
Among layers of
Preconceptions, pride
And fear
And shivering in solitude;
Exhausted by its tremors.

A broken heart
Bruised and tender, tending itself
And fending off invaders;
Encased in plaster while the fracture heals
And beating
With a gentler rhythm while the healing
Radiates.

A common core
An essence
That recognises itself in others;
A link
A shared experience
A common aim.

Hi there!
Where're you from?
Been here long!
Lovely day!
Can't beat it hey!
Can you spare a minute of your time?

Blue sky
White paint on concrete
And purple bougainvillea.

Too stark a light
To hide
The hardness in the dilated eye.
The rapid speech born of panic, custom and chemical
Gives the game away.

Scrubbed up, slicked down
But all the signs are there.
The broken tooth,the bitten nails, the shaking hand,
The desperation
That make truth irrelevant.

Disquiet,

Not dismay. Just disquiet
Lingers like the bitter leaves in a sweetened cup.
No tea without its bitter leaves,
No coffee without its dregs.

Disquiet

Fed by a gloomy day,
Nourished by wind and rain and a drear sky
Banished by bird song
Or a streak of sunlight.

Disquiet

Lingering from a half- forgotten dream
An echo of anxiety
Or chemical reaction
In the body?

Another day
Another season
Another place
Can swamp disquiet

Or starve it

Can fertilise anger or panic

Or can
deconstruct it

Sending

It's.

     Atoms

                   Hurtling

Into
        
          Space.

A fat pigeon
Sat on my chest; solid and smug.

It's feathers grey and stunted
No flights of fancy here
It's beak sharp,peck-pecking,peck- pecking on the same spot.
It's glassy little eyes, beady and peering, short sighted and looking only down.
It's scrawny little legs scratching, stiffly stepping forward, no veering
But in a predestined groove.

It constricted my breathing
And the air that fuelled me was dark and dank.
I stalled and stuttered
And all roads led uphill through rain soaked mill towns struggling on the edges of
Barren moorland.

And then the pigeon left-
Just lifted its fat, grey body
Like a spacecraft in vertical flight
And my chest expanded
And my lungs filled with sweet air and my trapped self left the confines of my rib cage
And levitated
Into a clean and white and airy space
With windows flung full wide
And blue sky and breeze and a seagull calling
And a new day beginning.

She wore a coat of paint and thin blue line around each eye
A doll's eye
A toy for someone else's game.
Painted lids to hide her shame.
Oh what a shame!
A 'pretty woman'.
Soft mousey curls
Straight now  and brittle as her voice
And yellowed , like her finger nails,
Painted and gnawed.
Sallow pitted skin
And thin - so thin!
Cheap flimsy dress
Her hair's a mess
Her smile too ready and
Her voice too hard,too gravelly and shrill.
A cloud has covered all she is
And taken all the shine, has chilled and numbed
Our Sharon.

On the pavement, on the street in Las Americas
She offers cards to pensioners who never win
Who talk to her because she's thin
And someone's girl.