Laid down, his upraised face is
White – offputting – on a plumped pillow.

“The all-consuming passion
is rarely found
more than a recipe
for misery,”
you read

He appears like a paper bag blown onto the feeder,
punching his beak time and again into the peanuts.

If you follow faerie lights
that wisp where boardwalk
becomes trackway, make sure
you’re stocked with milk,
or bread and salt.

My father stitched an evening with current ripples
spill over rocks and shadows gather at the corner,

i was standing
very still
my mind

    Taxi I took shelter under a tree, where you also sheltered. You looked at me awkwardly, as if to say Excuse me before shaking your feathers – a tiny droplet landed on my cheek. Suspended, we held each other responsible for the silence. We listened to the...

Sad how things expire before you work out
what they mean. Like earlier I was noticing
the rose petals on the path, all damp and slick,

For the Peregrines of Offham Chalk Pit The quarry holds your eyrie like a grateful palm. You - indelicate gobber all gape and gum-pink circled in the beach white like a mouth stuck in wonder. O spit-shrieker coming back for yourself, tearing fur so diligently, never...