Sunday, 27 March 2011


He gave up
playing with his friends
before he
broke them.


She was in the RAF. A Radar Operator. 'Ah,' I smiled. 'You're one of those people who keep the aeroplanes as far apart as possible.' 'No,' she said. 'Quite the opposite.'

Three Women

Epsom Downs

Flat on my back
in a Surrey hayfield.
She's got me
where she wants me
she thinks.
Over her shoulder,
a shooting star
sears the face
of a harvest moon.

South Norwood

Flat on my back
in a London kitchen.
She's a philosopher
but gave it up for Teaching.
She tells me it will be Good.


Flat on my back
(a pattern was emerging)
on a Glasgow bedsit floor.
She is showing me the rules
of a game
which involves throwing things
in a controlled manner.
It isn't cricket.

In those days
he was considered quite a catch.
Back then
he was easily bowled over.

Monday, 21 March 2011

Spring Equinox

Cherry blossom's out.
From this distance
it looks like candy floss.
I keep this to myself.
If I tell her
she'll think it really is
candy floss.
Then again
she might not.
It's hard to tell
what she'll think.
But if I tell her it looks like candy floss
she'll go off on a tangent
(a tangent unrelated to candy floss)
which will segue into
another tangent
and another
and another
until she gets upset.

The trick is
to keep the info
to a minimum.

We don't talk much these days.