My sweet lion’s tooth, The star-flower, the yellow buds That bloom, the wish-granting blossoms, Tap-rooted, northern born and bred, wild. Lobed, rosette, a prize for the lion’s teeth The paddock’s stars, the clock-seeds, We’re running out of time, you’ll wilt soon. Florets, sun rays, wind-walkers, parachutes, Sweet sun of the land, the stars that grow […]

Start at Dover Cliff house. White and crumbling, it’ll be there for a while. Turn off down Stephen King Lane. The wide tarmac road will smile at you until it’s dark. That’s when people disappear, you know. Cross Great Dane Field. The more dogs you see, the more likely it is you’ve found the way. […]

The snow slowly morphed to a liquid on his heated back His snores were the song that the wildlife danced to As he frolicked in his dreams The snow started falling as he dreamed of the sun The sun started shining as he stirred in his sleep But fell back down the whole of a […]

In the black sky, a single plume of grey-white. 大仙 means Daisen means big transcendence 仙: person and mountain. they had climbed to the top and found a heaven there. So the mountain watches over the river here and if I climbed it, could I understand the distance and the lack thereof? I tell myself […]

(they chose Lily because lily white, fresh, light like new bedsheets.) Playing outside, she came back mud christened, dirt like a promised tattoo. scraped off her with soap, it still hums on the skin, something that wouldn’t let go. (they chose Bella because beautiful lady, hoped for wide eyed innocence) Then she was two steps […]

Open land with lime trees, Older than the Romans and their roads, Older than the thin-boned fish in the water, Older than hindsight. Grasped from the claws of giants, Safe haven, the soldiers didn’t come here. Kings hunted when the land was fertile, Drank wine scooped from the crushed grapes Of these fields, slept in […]

birds pick their way through windswept heather, and feathers tread desire paths through the air. under wingbeats light emulsifies mist, a mistaken ghost, lingering. children talk of plague pits, not here, but everywhere. beneath its centuries london is essentially a grave. black is older than their voices: blæc. i hear bleak, imagine dew on the […]

it was this: most serene lions pawing at the sky; plaster hands clawing at silk roads on stilts. it was this: underwater houses rusted green in the silt of the river; crumbling stone moss creeping up over the gondola pipes and trinities of elm moorings growing out of the water. it was this: decay preying; […]

call me down to Balcombe when the sun licks the reservoir and i can touch Ardingly with a pointy stick. Ardingly, pronounced Arding-lie, is one of West Sussex’s many blades of grass, and the one that i balance on like a ladybird. my home is in Balcombe. no. my house is in Balcombe. my home […]

How we abuse the globus we dwell on, ripping up terra with such revelry. So we may lay pavimentum strong, Ignoring ossa that we cannot see. Our sun-dried clay rises towards the sky. Chimneys cough fumus; a deathly omen. The V’s we painted as children, farebye. The Power should have made us below them. Unless […]

The landscape of a village ensconced in obscurity, Where dwellers come and go. Its inhabitants running Dry like the bottom of an empty well. Lost in a summer Haze of unforgivable heat, the settlers settle like birds of A feather. With crows in their eyes, wrinkles carving their Body like a life lived and long-worn. […]

The vast rolling plains, the mountain chains, the maritime wonderlands of Canada were not of an infant named in the womb History breathed upon it slowly, shaping its identity sans rigidity Permitting time and aberrations not to mar but to mould As a small child my reverence was song – O Canada the true North […]

Down this one-way tarmac river the houses are masked by a latticed ebony merged on the banks by bricked dust piles, which steepens to the cloud paved meridian and descends, a trance, a curved water rod; less of a hill than an asphalt fountain the silent swans that once swam through the crisp, pedestrial winds […]

silence seeps from you fog on an asphalt winter’s day you are a place for ghosts buzzing metamorphosed into a creaking tinnitus                                      no one soars from your appendages anymore                 […]