proserpinei eat her lungs, in a dream,while she lies beside me. no,not eat, but inhale out of her body. she says: i am tired.she says: i am tired, and thenwe lie in a bed and talk, talknonsense – as...

HomeI offer to cook you an egg, at least:that’s something I can do. Okayyou say, the bent nape of your neck facing meyour thinking fingers searching over the keyboard.So I find a pan, let water pour...

Easter Saturday, Hyde ParkWinter’s piggy-backing spring, squeezing ribswith icy thighs, scoring her pale hauncheswith his whistling crop. Pigeons are downedby rat-a-tat hail, sheltering their...

The GardenerThis time of year again –
doing the work we must bend to or kneel,

like the man rising at evening
from the furrows he’s been digging all day,

his hands muddy with planting,
patting the...

Constable becomes BanksyThe sun shines,swans are gliding the riverwhich runs through,soft, silent  and true,and this fine spring daycould be a John Constable,with  me, strolling in the...

A Touch Of Redbud Spring reconciles the hillside,and recalls her elegance. Bitter arms mellow, and budinto magenta tufts snatched from nestling in deep winterpockets. She pardons...

Spring Snow keeps falling though April’s begun.  The city is buried while we sleep in our beds and the council’s run out of molasses and grit. People move through the streets like hospital...

Hydrating the entire stationThank you to whoever broke up with the sky. Had I some cookie dough to feed it, I would. For now I’m going to celebrate the heartbreak of the heavens and the death...

City CampusTo make a square of glass in the corner of a windowgo to the corner, draw vertical and horizontallines from the bottom right corner of a square - set into the top left corner of the...

Dead Trees of Coole ParkOn a silent Sunday take me to Coole Park where the dead trees whisperTo where the people of letters sleep Etched letter by letter, vandals of the word speak in this cemetery...