Wherever we are in this odd alphabet,
I am the only one to start out with you.
Long past A, it seems we must begin

again here so often. An unpicked tapestry
which I worry will be misinterpreted without
my shuttle to connect events and places.

I think,without my observations, you are
a complex and moveable feast. New faces
each day as light and weather changes.


Tony Noon

Where this water meanders,
abundant life always fought
itself to found and dominate.

Blinking eyes cannot count
kings or name them as time
tears up each castle lease.

As they fall the worldly wise
will tell you that they knew.
White elephants do not thrive.

But water surging still and light
has let them change, and learn
to hide themselves in plain sight.


Tony Noon

Television parties are where
they are at. Their unnamed
melodies attract costumed
fun lovers but no demands.

The hours are unspecified.
Non-stop dance still draws
complaints from downstairs
but knowing smiles remind us

that this noise has no meaning.


Tony Noon

There is another hole in the old town.

When it rains it will hold water like cold
craters on the moon.Devoid of life now,
each drop will hold the history of years.
Every drop will reflect on scrubbed steps
and drunken Fridays and days off in bed.  

The wind will whistle hit parades over mud.
Grass will pretend it was always here and
cold kids on new bikes never turned out at
Christmas or in new clothes come Whitsun.
Plaques will not record the living or the dead.

There is another hole in the old town.
Shaped like a worn shoe. Hard to fill.


Tony Noon

We chose this discrete island.
Not cast away as rumoured.
It was space to think things
through that was needed.
In time we found ourselves,
found new skills and learnt
to play with fire and with smoke.

Those first signals, reciprocated
from the far horizon did it.
Like minds entwined above
uncaring water. We wanted more.
We wanted high towers so that
we could see ourselves across
the empty oceans, but towers fall

and dust blows out the flame.

Tony Noon

I often take the long road home.
It allows me to take a deep dive
of events and find my place in
the trajectory of working hours.

You can do this sort of thing with
quantitative matters. Interactions
between a) and b) will always have
a measurable effect on levels of c)

I have tried to superimpose this idea
on qualitative issues without success.
Even on the longest route there is not
enough road to draw firm conclusions.


Tony Noon

Forget the book and candle.
The creaking comes with age.
You know those rattling panes
are taunted by branches left
uncut by you in lazy summer.

Do not lock the door and run.
Ghosts are particular. Always
with us, they thrive in three-ply
boxes, and in packed suitcases.
When you are ready, they are too.


Tony Noon