as eyes seize it
woodpecker
above the cemetery
waking the dead
laid to rest
in the ancient cemetery
old tombstones
climate change
the old aphorisms
are useless now
winter storm
the missing tiles know
where they are
what it was like
in the looking
pussy cat
you are round the bend
right round
satellite IT
your back yard
is my back yard
winter
the cat spins on a sixpence
the door closes
outside toilet
the seat is as cold as
an expletive
wanted
a rocking horse
too late
in suburbia
a small shrine
sells peace
no wind
frozen greenhouse
new moon tree
well
now you have it
not
is not having it
now and zen
swimming
when the sun lights spindrift
i am just there
her last breath taken
at half past ten we waited
our time went on
slowly
she is dying
after
coffee and chocolate
i wrote this
at the book stall
we all know that man browsing
all alone
hermitigation
who turned my vest inside out
emptiness asks
snow field
the following footprints
are mine
a frosty morning
clouds arriving from the west
everything melting
snowflakes
falling through
my open hands
your empty heart
fill it with the ocean’s sea
wave after wave
that’s where it was
haunting today’s walk
it was just there
blowing a grass note
the cut memory’s knife
in a field of clover
a punk on the bus
chatting gently to a nun
is a child again
a thousand sunsets
back to the time of acorns
in past dawns
silent evening
my cat is sitting me
alongside our thoughts
the sea swimmer
turns red
matinee
the midnight barking dog
critic’s preview
in every beach pool
all our foundling childhoods
waving anemones
falling
at sunset
i awake
in the barn
we found her body
no naked flames
to risk the kiss
and a bloody nose
gorse flowers
estuarine
a blizzard of geese
at dawn
floating
in the sky
a ship
frost
on a station platform
tomorrow is late
such a roar
the sea has torn me
i am broken
they are dead
even after those photos
in the dark ward
a blind man’s harmonica
amazing grace
singularity
the birth of the universe
a haiku
the boundary condition
of an infinite mind
one tit
in the corkscrew hazel
one dawn
dawn
a fox is calling
backwards
oh to be a moon
around a distant planet
is still if only
the blindness of (I) in a poem
the bleak advance
trees that are going nowhere
with me
silent voices
screaming silently
listen
every statistic
shouts out of the pandemic
what a sad poem
wandering poet
in the catacombs of mind
a thousand coffins
mmmmm
after my winter sea swim
the sun is so warm
let’s say summer
between sun and shadows
the city all smiles
sharp wind
tears in my eyes
flicking candle
into a north wind
a skein of geese far gone
white grass waving
a fox walks across
followed later by a cat
my lonely window
the morning enters
as my eyes venture forth
which way now