falling water 

the sound of an architect 

frank lloyd wright

 a wide-eyed night 

on a rocket to the moon

firefly liftoff 

 server power cut 

we decide to have strawberries 

on the crochet lawn

 look

the child is pointing

learn something 

 Christmas shopping 

the nice girl at the checkout

is called Gloria

 a poet asks

of the muse

what have i written 

 that bend you down

it is the smallest flowers

that screw your eyes

give the morning’s biggest smile

that open pandora’s box 

 death the great duster

burnishes a sunbeam

can ghosts swim

 icicle meltdown

hanging on to your words

of goodbye

 a cat person

googling the word

usurped 

 same ~ rain ~ same

it runs down your neck 

it runs down mine

 winter

the bin lorry arrives

before the sun

 moments are shrines

timely your offering

to ring the bell

rain shower

under the looking tree

time for reflection 

 strawberry footprint

carbon and cream

for christmas

 candles

the cat sits in the rain

both went out

 autumn morning

it’s later than you think 

overslept again

 to ten million poets

a singular reader

is a laureate

 winter windows

many lamps

many faces

 late in the year

all the birds have flown away

leaves are falling

 sleet slanted sunshine

love in the afterglow

dancing on the leaves

 young gull all alone

makes its own decisions 

when the flock has flown

 snowflakes

schools at the epicentre 

are closed

on the darkening

through the rain-smeared window

empty blue pots 

 we pulled at the grass 

and ran the cut home to mum

that magic kiss

 running to school

instead of taking the bus

big pink bubble gum

 waiting & waiting

all depends on the red seat

and who will sit there

 grey bay

silver sunbeam

long swim

 the good old films

now that the star has died

a bubble has burst

 lamplight

is that the first snowflake

christmas stocking

 writing haiku 

on a riverside seat 

a leaf in my saki 

i love it here

with the leaves falling 

riverside lunch

 s weeping the yard

there are still more leaves to fall

s wee ping the yard 

 in ten thousand years

the fact that i was unknown 

would be well known

 if they made a graph

of all the climate graphs

they would call them daft

 take the time to look

where the child is pointing

you might learn something 

 the cat is snoring

and it has started to rain

sharing a blanket

 

post post-modernism

OMG get on with it 

LOL 

 after the session

the hypnotist has a fag

you are feeling creepy

 all the euphemisms passed away

when the pragmatist died

all donations in lieu to …

whatever

 a wood pigeon

pecking at nothing at nothing 

gets fatter and fatter 

 autumnal menses

nature prepares for the seed

labial leaves

‘tween the thighs of yesterday

the longing for tomorrow 

 look

where the child points 

you may learn something 

 autumnal menses

nature prepares for the seed

not one leaf unturned