c. 2015, re-written July 2020 The jackdaws have increased by hundreds, while the crows remain. The sky is grey and consuming; I glimpse spectres within its alluring shrouds, As though this bleak room between engulfing sky and mud That I entered as a child Takes now the shape of my exit. All the denying sun … Continue reading On Saughall Farmland, An Era Later
When Again The Darkness Has Swallowed The Sun
June 6, 2004 When again the darkness has swallowed the sun, You carry a pain like cancer. Who would speak of playmates now? Perhaps we should. Though your depths were often profound and dark, Your soul would spring away once more, Higher and lighter than mine, And you would dance above me Like an Angel, … Continue reading When Again The Darkness Has Swallowed The Sun
Terroir
June 27, 2006 Terroir is a study of heat that stifles and scorches the ground, Which itself in each inimitable meter Is a building of minerals and brown death From which the vine roots draw its hopeless Signature in the first new form of blood, Pressing full on each round membrane. And when the searing … Continue reading Terroir
Almost Halted
May 9, 2009 I almost ground to a stiff and aging halt for you. I had come to my knees and then collapsed further. Face down, locking arthritically to the ground, My remaining movement was of one eye, Regarding my heart. And there I saw the remaining ember Of the old heat. So on that … Continue reading Almost Halted
Tuesdays Walking With Ida
Nov 11, 2009 She has the energy of seven. On one of the walks she shared more with Pat about the stroke. Her recovery took one and half years. Even in hospital she went about reforming. She yelled at doctors who used the strike to sit in back rooms smoking, While in the corridors and … Continue reading Tuesdays Walking With Ida
Before Dawn 