Thursday, 22 June 2017

Apparently there's a heatwave further south

Sky the colour of unchanged bed-sheets
from which someone rose daily
returned to every night
for days enough to count as half a year.
Weekend lie-ins
occasional masturbation
merging with the slough of skin
and grubby rare-washed feet.

Monday, 19 June 2017

On my way to buy a morning paper #77

A short man (squat?)
black-clad
(impression of a cloak)
shiny black curls
clutching several bits of shopping
and singing, deep-voiced and loud
Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah'.

Sunday, 14 May 2017

From my window

The vividness of a wet red car
against the new-soaked green of fresh-mowed lawn
and baby hawthorn leaves

Saturday, 22 April 2017

On my way to buy a paper #76

Not a knocked-down crow
feathers riffing in the wind
but an abandoned black umbrella
discarded crumpled in the road.

Wednesday, 1 March 2017

Overstaying their welcome

October's crisp and golden leaves,
flown from the tree
landed, rain-soaked and impacted
on tarmac so hard
as to grow leopard spots,
are now merely ghosts of theselves

Monday, 20 February 2017

7.30 am

Sudden blast of early sun
illuminates the houses opposite
like Mother Nature's testing spotlights
before the morning rush.

Thursday, 16 February 2017

On my way to buy a paper #75

Gulls greet rare pink clouds with a fat bottomed, triple chuckle from the roof ridge.