Unexpected Sunshine And the light’s fading, syrupy rich sunlight that touched the faces in the market, in the centre of town but didn’t sweeten their appearance to me as I wondered aimlessly on my...

                      The poem below comes from towards the end of Rob A. Mackenzie's freshly launched pamphlet Fleck and the Bank.  Fleck, an...

Writing Lessons The new chalk’s like a violin on wet slate, rhyming white lessons in a tall room where sunshine’s never touched the walls. Here generations come and go like moths, fidgeting to find...

War Correspondent For James Fenton   Floating among the ice, these peaceful soft, curly shapes reflect the sky. The river rocks them lightly, gently, their pace appearing slow and graceful...

Idle Hands Another rainy Sunday and Irene was staring out of the window. Or, more correctly she was staring at the window, the rain making the solidity of the transparent glass obvious for once. She...

Henri Rousseau (1844-1910)   Un tout petit oiseau Sur l’epaule d’un ange Ils chantent le louange Du gentil Rousseau . . .  – Guillaume Apollinaire   You, gentilhomme, sing bright colors Of...

The Bell Ringers and the Slaughterhouse This is their rehearsal night: each pull and release a feel for time and tone, to peal exact. All just exercise for the biggest of days. On these frost-glazed...

No one will know Woke up mouth-caught, suspended in solitude, not a muscle move. Fling open a window      breathe in the life outside. He is not a man. Presence            presence when you want...

Dolls Fever brings me a pile of white dolls in the evening light which seeps, tired, through woodwork. They have empty faces and sundered limbs poor delphic things and I don't even know where their...