To Chris




I know a boy called Chris,

Whose very hard to dis,

He never takes anything a miss,

And always gets the jist.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Bird God




“ There is no test,

Only flight and rest.”

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
From The Ferry




The sun shines on the sea,

Like a taught skin,

On the back

Of an ancient animal.



Large, it undulates,

Like a conversation between,

Two massive banks,

Lost in a continual horizon.



Peaks of white foam,

On cross hatched waves.

Lit wrinkles of a wise old lady,

Contrast in moods of blue.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Following




The gulls follow the ferry,

With brains like dolphins,

Hearts like lions

And wings of their own.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Night Tear




A medicinal tear,

In the nocturnal night,

Runs like an orange,

Off the page of the sky,

Into the depth of a grey cloud.

Swallowed by the wind.

Autumnal




Autumn spits out cars,

Bucketed in leaves.



Newly born to the night,

Parked like seasonal brains,

At the side of the road.



Empty inside.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Void




Give it all to a night walk.

The cold evening breeze is passing through,

Am I a solid object?

Or

Are all the wheels of the universe

Turning into and out of me

Like a hole,

Endless?



Where I am but an aperture,

Without substance.



Meeting the world.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
A Birds Free Will




In a cushioned sky,

Is the relief of a seagull,

It glides above me,

And hovers.



A shadow,

So big and invisible,

Is cast,

Cool in the sun.



I know I am being watched,

It does me good.

I am passive,

Our relationship is a mile high.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Dark Nudge




A flick-book of scratches blows out

The working man’s candle.

The unkempt pen marks out

Crosses instead of kisses.



Our mistakes can never be re-lit.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Mindful




The split tree continues

To grow in the mind,

A stone lies in its shadow.

The seed always interrupts the knife.