as eyes seize it
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
where the child points
you may learn something
not one leaf unturned