The ManifestationThe verb make abandons the hearton my tongue, of sorts, unspoken and bizarre.Tchaikovsky said: In matters of love,words are not necessary. He spoke these words and with themconjured...

HarpistMore animal than angel, that lookin his eyes; kestrel, say – the way, hunched forwardon the small wooden stool,he might have caught sightof something far beyond our vision,suddenly borne upby...

St MarksJeane, The Headstone Huntress, reminded me of my one visit to the Drawing Room of Europe, St. Mark's Square in Venice. What fixed it in my then 12-year-old brain were not the pigeons,...

Pinochet’s GardenPunctured gasps of bog cotton in the marsh by the streamonly he knew the way through. He liked his knowledge.He had the gardeners dowse selected plants on the hour,every hour,...

Remote LifeI was for a moment called out of my ghost lifeby your text message on my mobile,I was sitting at the table watching TVlooking at a remote control there by my hand…they were four really,...

Insomniaworst, the potassium flashes; electric questions crackle;numbered doubts on tickets, in chest-press black,Progress Papers for this pilgrim to solve before the bell; the invigilator’s...

Family Album

On the scan you are tiny - a whiteness
in a dark sky. Your breath steams in patches,
ghost white strokes on the photograph.
(I want to step into the picture to see what happens.
I want...

Roman Holiday BluesMy first visit to St Peter’s Square was cut short by a volcanic eruption. I’d been remembering a scene from Roman Holiday at the time, the one with the Mouth of Truth.  First...