buffoon

untitled exhale

To My Child

sometimes i miss
those carefree days
of driving around
listening to crucial conflict…

Each year I am looking for signs,
a white pebble, a dropped feather,
shy shadow’s shape, red thread burning…

Convolvulus strangles
cow parsley and nightshade.
Its pure white trumpets plead:
Forgive us! Look how lovely we are…

    Payday Mid-afternoon and the streets smell of petrichor; people spilling out of pubs, crowding to smoke cigs in the early spring sunshine. I am alone, again. All my friends live thousands of miles away. I am closer to the people who are not near me...

  Planet Nine You talk to me intently of black holes. I slip my hand into yours, unnoticed. You are absorbed in thoughts astronomical. I am stealing time. Swallowed by a constellation of brighter stars and suddenly you are on the cusp of the cusp of a place where...

    Night Market   When the night curtain falls, the crowd start to assemble as if drawn by magnets, as if answering a scared call. Neon lights go up along the narrow pavements, illuminating the concentrating faces of food-sellers. Under boiling noodle...

Early March, after weeks of rain:
between a young oak’s leggy roots,
a cushion of dun, desiccated leaves.

You have been burgled.
While you were out with the dog,
a burglar made best use of that
yawning kitchen keyhole to spook
through tracelessly