Slubbed It’s not that you should ever abandon a treasure or have beautiful collections rather should this convoluted world of weather be reported to you by shopkeepers you can choose threshold or enclosure beyond all the encompassing boulevards and for reasons that you may not be able to comprehend your mind will be rucked and…

The Commonplace (after Mark Halliday) It was word-blind, wouldn’t speak . It was writing , the sort you had to unpack, a string of tiny flags. It was a purple logo on a mint-green rollerball pen. You tried to squash it but it converted itself back into its base. The Sign of the Square Root…

This is in response to reading poems recently by W.S. Graham and Barbara Guest. It’s a first draft.  drift  the purpose is just this, to push your life at the edges   to step out, blur borders so yellow bleeds into blue and the scarlet rectangle balances   there   in your dry room, your…

Okay, so the snow’s all but disappeared but I came across this poem I wrote  a while back and think it suits January.  Even, I, a sun-worshipper, find the idea of an ice-hotel enticing-and they do exist . The picture here is of the one in Sweden Cocktails at the Ice-Hotel Soon, this place will be…

21 (29/12/09) You played in Emile’s position in the same primary school, both  just as fast on the wing, Mr Turnbull told the Merc and there you were with Emile’s dad in the photo, and after, winning cups, soccer, tennis, squash for the county once, then dropped yourself down a level to play with your…

Leap You must have thought for a moment your paws were wings and forgetting height launched yourself from the highest branch, the one that waved at the clouds, at the moon, which, even though you were falling, shone a soft silver light, stayed with you as you lay stiff and still for the students out…

Pam This post shows the results of a recent collaboration with my friend, photographer and poet, Ben Webb. We sent each other 4 images and wrote poems based on those. Here are the first 4. Ben’s site jinnwoo.deviantart.com Cones. I’m a spaceman in the radio! (I’m going to have to ask you to agree with me…

  an illusion                                                  don’t be fooled this is not a night-scene where  an attention-seeking  moon lustrous                              swollen                                    goddess     poetry words! KICKS ! hapless bystander clouds  that just happen to be  there then spills her drink (oh dear) all over the sea this is the sun( wake up!) at  10am This is NOT a night scene….

This is a revised version of a poem I’ve posted before. My first visit to the US was last summer-to Salt Lake City, Utah. I was presenting at a conference at the University of Utah and staying in University accommodation in its very lavish grounds. The conference was jointly run by that University and Brigham Young…

History is some kind of climb a plinth moment then repeated on the hour and in a different costume History is Nelson stepping down; another poet said it’s a long dark chute History is light dawning, the way someone recalls that fact, that feeling, the way it was whenever History is a text, a voice,…